To all of those familiar with my OC, I kinda changed his background a little. And there will be a slight crossover with JAG here.
Trev
When I was in JROTC, our Colonel was a self admitted mama's boy ,was madly in love with his wife, and had three daughters. If he ever, and I do mean ever, found out one of us mistreated a woman, he'd tear us a new asshole in the way only a poor white trash who grew up in Georgia and had two Masters degrees could(What the hell was the Air Force thinkin when they made that man an officer?)
I found myself wondering what he would say to this sorry excuse for a male. I already wanted to beat the shit out of him. Gave folks like me a bad name.
"You light that and I kick your ass," I threatened.
"Bite me," he snarked as he lit up. I took the cigarette and put it out on my arm, smiling evilly as I did so. He paled and shut up.
"So, you were here for some romance with this shithead?" I asked, in a completely conversational tone.
"Ye-ye, yes," she was shivering almost uncontrollably. A lot of it is probably bleed off from adrenaline.
Without a word, I stripped the moron of his jacket and handed it to her. She continued, "Oh my God, my Dad's on duty he doesn't know I took his SUV!"
"Calm down," I said, "Yeah, you're probably gonna be grounded," and given a chastity belt, "But he's probably gonna be so relieved you're okay he'll lighten the punishment."
"How would you know?" she asked.
"So, you wanted to just spend some quality time together, while this loser wanted more physical activities?" I asked, ignoring the question.
"No, we were listening to music, and-"
"And wham, pow blood everywhere!" the moron interrupted.
"Moron, I'm trying to get information from a reliable source, wait your turn," I let the unspoken 'dipshit' hang in the air. Honestly I hated the punk.
"And then we freaked and went out for help," she said.
"We found them a klick down the road on our way to the scene," the MP said.
"Did you hear anything before you left?" I asked, "A moan, cough?"
"Yes, definitely a moan," she answered, "I felt bad leaving him there."
"It's okay. When a body dies, air is still left in his lungs. You just heard the air escaping in the most convenient of places," I explained, reassuring her that she did nothing wrong, "Get all that, Gibbs?" I asked. He'd shown up as I ripped the moron's jacket from him.
"Can I go now?" the moron asked.
"Not until her father get's here," Gibbs said, "I'm sure he'd have a some physical activity with you," lucky bastard. I wanted in, but I figured the father had dibs.
Kate
"Hey Boss, look who I found," DiNozzo said, "Mps weren't gonna let her pass."
"I got my SIG and badge, but HQ didn't issue my photo ID yet," I explained. And that's when I noticed the corpse.
The Marine in fatigues seemed to have speared through the roof of the car. What was worse was the fact that he looked pale and sick, yet seemed to be in a deep sleep, like he would wake up any moment but be miserably sick
"Oh my God," I said, "Is this real?"
"Unfortunately, my dear, it is," Ducky replied.
"Put 'em on," Gibbs held out a pair of latex gloves. Of course, Rule #1, Always wear gloves on a crime scene.
"Ah! Your first crime scene with us, Caitlin!" Ducky exclaimed.
"What about Air Force One?" I asked.
"Doesn't count, you were in Secret Service," Ducky replied, "Tony, take a team photo, for posterity."
"Forget posterity," Gibbs ordered, pulling out a white box from a bag, "Sun's gonna be up soon," he handed me the box, "Welcome to NCIS."
I smiled and reached into the box, drawing out a combat boot, "How'd you know my size?"
He just gave me a crooked smile and tilted his head, and put a black ball cap on my head, "Put em' on. Can't work a field in high heels.
"Depends on the kinda work you're doing," DiNozzo commented.
"Your mind, DiNozzo, runs a gammit from X to XXX," I shot back.
Trev
The 2nd Force Reconnaissance Company is a 6 Platoon unit with: a headquarters platoon(company commander, XO, JAG officer[never understood why JAG needed to be there] etc.), 2 Direct Action Platoons(what I did when I was in Force Recon), 2 Deep Reconnaissance Platoons, and a Scout Sniper Platoon.
Often is deployed by Parachute. And meanass mothers, everyone of them.
And, unlike Gibbs, I actually have the Commandant on speed dial. He hates me, but his wife loves me. She thinks I'm funny.
"All right, DiNozzo, Trev, shoot and sketch. Kate and I will start interrogation," Gibbs instructed.
I scowled. I knew that Secret Service had to start somewhere, but interrogation was my thing. Meanwhile, DiNozzo was being his usual self.
"Man, it's gotta be so cool to jump," he said.
"Hey you wanna play paratrooper? Pay a $180 and take a class, like all those other Weekend Warriors," he scoffed.
"Yeah, I have so many weekends free!" DiNozzo shot back. Hey, if you wanna jump so badly, take a weekend off your social life. That's what I use the average one weekend a month the Gibbs begrudgingly gives.
I scoffed. I took my first jump when I was fourteen(Pa took me, Sam, and Maggs as a family bonding exercise. I had fun. I tried to look only straight ahead of me. It didn't help), "DiNozzo, if you wanna jump so bad, I have a friend that can get you full combat gear and shove you out of a Cessna."
"Like that friend who I got into a bar fight with?"
"I would never let Jeffery fly a plane," I wouldn't let the guy drive a car. I wonder to this day how he passed his ASVAB.
"Or those fraternal triplets who carjacked me?"
"It could be a compliment, as they took your car and not that slick ride next to it," Bo, Bu, and Ba looked black, hispanic, and Native American, respectively. Their mom liked to gangbang. That screwed-upness has tainted everything they do. And they love every minute of it.
"Or that sniper friend of yours who forgot where the President lived?"
"Okay, even I wonder how the hell Deck got into Special Forces," it's on the tip of my tongue, was his reply. And no, he wasn't screwing around, "Cav Scouts, I get. Even the Rangers. But Special Forces? Really? How does a guy who's had 4 concussions in High School even get into the military?"
I know cause I gave him his third.
"I thought he was Airborne," DiNozzo said.
"Gotta be jump qualified to be a Ranger, DiNozzo. Not to mention Special Forces."
Kate
I couldn't believe it. A guy jumps out of an air plane with an injured collarbone and slows his reaction time with painkillers, and his squadmates knew about it and didn't stop him. I didn't understand why.
"Mission," I looked at Trev, who leaned against Abby's steel evidence table, "Military is mission oriented. Always complete the mission. The mission is everything."
"But that still-"
"It's especially true in 'elite' units," he said, "Like Force Recon. Fuentes didn't want to upset the mission. And besides, many pro athletes play while injured. It's usually only the sportscasters who make a big deal about it."
"Yeah, like catching a ball is just as dangerous as jumping out of an airplane."
"You've obviously never pl-"
"Are you two done?" Gibbs growled. I gave a final glare at Trev.
Trev
I was not a happy camper. Yeah, I get the need for Secret Service to learn the ropes. But in times past I would help Abby in the Forensics Lab. I would be the one Gibbs sent to question suspects. But, being the Good Little Marine I am, I gritted my teeth, and pulled every last bit of information on the riggers.
And there was a lot of shit, too. Force Recon is a small group. To make matters better for me, operators often trade stories over beer, and your average operator has a huge repertoire of he-said-she-said. So, I called 2nd Squad. Specifically, I called Gunny Taggard.
"Hey Tag, I got a favor to ask you," I said.
"Sure, man. What'd ya need?"
"You ever hear stories about the riggers of the 2nd?"
"Some. What's this about?"
"NCIS is investigating a possible homicide."
"Ah, shit man. I'm no snitch."
"Hey, cocksucker, I couldn't care less about who-banged-who. I'm looking to catch a shithead that killed a brother Marine, da?"
"Alright, I see ya. Haven't really heard anything much, other than some war stories. The usual, saved-at-the-last-minute-by-luck/skill/training/a whore." You would be surprised how much the last one comes up.
"I'll take your word for it. And Tag?"
"Yeah?"
"If you break my sister's heart, I break your... everything."
"Shit. You know about that?"
"Tag," I sighed disparadgingly and hung up the phone.
Of course I knew. She's my freaking sister.
Kate
"Very Electric Kool-Aid, Abby," DiNozzo observed.
"I was thinking more Blue Man Group," she replied.
"Sergeant Fuentes chute wasn't the only one tampered with," I said, indicating the substance on the chutes that lit up under ultra violet light.
"How many?"
"Nine, out of sixteen," I answered, "Logbook signatures show different riggers packed the lot."
"How many did Corporal Dafelmayer pack?"
"Four," I checked my notes, "The rest were packed by Corporal Brinkman and Sergeant Fuentes."
"Corporal Ramsey didn't pack any?" DiNozzo asked.
"No," I said, "When his signature didn't show up on a single parachute I called Captain Fall. He put Corporal Ramsey on a two week rigging suspension for sloppy work. Guess who wrote him up for that?"
"Senior Rigger, Sergeant Fuentes," it's funny how Gibbs's voice almost never really elevates to past a quiet, calm tone.
"We got motive," DiNozzo said.
"We got more than that," Abby said, "Kate and I have a theory."
"How come you didn't warm up to me this quickly?" DiNozzo asked.
"You're like a peircing Tony. It takes a while for the throbbing to stop and the skin to grow back," the most accurate way to describe him I have ever heard.
"More than I wanted to know," DiNozzo said with a smile.
"What's the theory?" Gibbs demanded.
"Every time you lace up your boondockers or cinch your laundry bag, you leave little bits of skin behind. It's the same with the parachute rigging," Abby pulled little bits of skin on the screen, "I pulled skin samples from the deployment bags of the chutes that were messed with."
"Did you get a DNA signature?" Gibbs asked.
"All nine bags had a number of different samples, but only one set that was common to all nine," Abby continued.
"Our saboteur," Gibbs smiled a little.
"Our riggers on record packed the chutes, then someone came and repacked them, leaving some skin behind," I theorized.
"Corporal Ramsey," DiNozzo guessed.
"Well, depending on what he knows about forensics, he's either very smart or very dumb," Abby said.
"There's gotta be extra chutes Corporal Ramsey packed in Paraloft inventory for comparison," said.
She shook her head, "Negatory, I checked. They were all packed since he's been suspended."
I realized something, "Well, there's an armed forces DNA registry. All military personel are on record, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then we got our guy!" I felt pleased with myself.
"Nope," Gibbs said, "All we got is a pile of dead skin. The armed forces DNA registry can only be used to identify a dead body."
"Well there has to be a way around that," I said.
Gibbs smiled, "Now you're thinking like an NCIS agent," I smiled, "Take Trev, see if he can get Lieutenant Roberts to sign off on it," goodbye, my smile.
Trev
"Why are we going to the JAG office instead of them coming to us?" Secret Service asked.
"Because, it's going to be hard to get them to sign off on it," I said, tapping the wheel as we waited at a red light, "Look, we bring food to Bud and Harriett, and we get into polite conversation, and we get Bud to sign it without him ever realizing he did."
"For some reason, I don't thing subtlety is your strong suit," she said.
"Well, I did assassinate a president," I said. She scowled and shut up.
JAG Office.
"Hey Cousin Sarah!" I greeted with a, completely innocent smile, "Long time no see!"
She looked as if she suspected a lion was hiding in the grass, "Jon, how... it's..."
"Come on, you can do it," I encouraged.
"I... who's your friend?" nice save.
"Secret Service, Lt Colonel Sarah Mackensie, a her mom was a friend of my mom's," I introduced, "Cousin Sarah, Agent Kate Todd, NCIS. We ain't here on official business."
"Good to know," she smiled a bit, still weary, "And I hear you are on your first non-tactical assignment. What made you change?"
"Extenuating circumstances," I said cryptically.
"Hmm," she eyed my critically. It used to scare the shit out of me as a kid. Then again, when I was thirteen I knocked her out and put her in her uncle's truck. Not that she needed it. A few more drinks and she would have been in lala land anyway.
"You seen Bud and Harriett around anywhere?"
"What did you do to their car?" she demanded.
"Nothing!" I blow up her car one, repeat one time, and she just can't let it go"I got a favor I need to ask them."
"Harriett's right there," she pointed behind us at the Inspector General administrator.
"Hey, Harriett!" I greeted she smiled warmly. I think it's impossible for Harriett to really hate anybody. And, of course, there is the fact that I somehow manage to get the wives to love me, but the husband's to hate me. Except, of course, Bud.
"Hey, Trev," she greeted, "Who's this?"
"Kate Todd," she greeted, shaking her hand.
"Secret Service," I coughed, "We got food. Wanna have lunch with that no-good-geek husband of yours?" for some reason, Bud actually liked that nickname.
"Right here!" said geek hurried over, "I smell Beltway Burgers."
"Nice one, Lassie," I said, "Four double-deckers. Oh, and a few burgers for you guys too."
"Cutting back?" he sounded surprised.
Secret Service was, "'Cutting back?' He's eaten more than this?"
"Way more," Bud said, sitting down at his desk, "It's surprising that his arteries haven't shut with a bang. Now, what do you want?"
"What? Can't a guy just ha-" Bud and Harriett both gave me that don't bullshit us look. It's creepy how they do it, "Okay, we found epithelial cells on some parachute rigging on a homicide investigation. Nine were sabotaged, and one set was common to all of them."
"Sounds open and shut," Bud observed.
"You'd think, but we need access to the DNA registry to verify," I said.
"I can't do that," Bud said, "There is an iron-clad rule against it."
"I know, I know," I said, "That stupid case with those two Army privates who didn't know there place. But comeon, for every legal firewall, there is a way around it."
"It's iron clad."
"Sergeant Fuentes fell 1300 feet to his death, and impaled an SUV!"
"I can't lawyer you past it," he said.
"We are reaching the twenty-four hour mark. You know what happens when forty-eight passes."
"Evidence begins to degrade, witnesses change their statements, suspects improve theirs."
"So help us," Secret Service said.
"No," Bud's word was final.
I sighed, "Fine. Then can you get us into their lockers with a search authorization," I pulled the papers out of the Beltway Burgers bag. They only had a little bit of grease on it.
"Okay," Bud said with a little too much relief.
And the she realized it,"You set this up!" Secret Service accused.
I finished my first burger, "It's a trick developed by horse traders. Bid hard on the best horse in the lot. When the deal breaks..."
"Bid on the second best, and you get the horse at a fraction of the price," Bud finished.
"Were any of those horse traders hung?" she asked.
"A few," I said dismissively, "My Russian ancestors probably hung a few of them."
"Then why do the whole charade?" she asked.
Harriett answered, "He didn't have probable cause. Bud did this as a favor."
"Consider it a learning experience," I said, "Never work the system when you can work the people. The system is inflexible, people can be manipulated."
She scoffed, "And you let him do this?"
"Lawyers manipulate people all the time," Bud said, "We just take more care in making it look like we follow the rules."
"And keeping it away from that creepy-ass Admiral who runs this joint," I said. And then I saw there faces, "He's right behind me, isn't he?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Lieutenant," of shit, he means me, "There is nothing that goes on around here that I don't know about."
Before she could make the ultimate mistake, I stopped Secret Service from turning around, "Don't," I warned, "Once you see The Head it hypnotizes you. And did you know that that my little brother is screwing that Petty Officer whats-her-name?"
"Why do you still call me that?" he asked.
"Do you buff that damn thing?" I demanded, "Jesus, if the sun hits it directly, everyone in the room goes blind."
"How do you keep expecting to have a career as an officer if you piss people off like that?" Bud asked.
"He's chummy with the president after he shot him," and there they go.
"It was a paintball gun!"
"It was point blank!"
"We are not having this discussion again!"
Bud looked confused, "I didn't know you got married, Trev."
And that was probably the last time I ever brought Secret Service to meet a friend again.
Kate
"Very lady-like," I commented after DiNozzo jumped off the platform.
"It was actually a pretty good landing for a rookie," Trev said.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, "What are you doing?"
"Research," Tony said, "For Abby."
"Shall you or shall I?" Trev asked Gibbs.
"Me," Gibbs replied before promptly smacking Tony upside the head. Tony immediately looked chastened.
"It's a Marine thing," Trev explained.
"Okay, now how did you two get into NCIS?" I asked.
"I smiled," DiNozzo replied with a grin.
"Gave Gibbs a black eye," Trev said.
WHAT?
Well, I finished my first case as an NCIS agent. I had a lot to learn. Gibbs would take some getting used to. Tony was a relaxing way of having fun. And Trev...
He was strange. He always seemed alert, yet relaxed. Dangerous? Yep. Useful? Definitely. Intelligent? Without a doubt. Trustworthy?
I think so. He's more the guy I would want on my side in a fight, but not have my back.
Trev
So Secret Service did good. Not really surprising. She had that look in her eye. That spark when you know when to shut up and listen and learn. She had spunk, a need to prove herself. And, as though I hated to admit it, we had a lot in common.
We both grew up in small towns. She had that trusting nature no one in the big city would get.
Big families. She probably had quite a few older brothers, by her prickliness.
Love of weapons. She had, in addition to her SIG Saur, a subcompact Glock at the small of her back and a pocket .22 or .25 on the inside of her left thigh, not to mention the pocket knife in her pocket.
She's deceptive. She plays her cards close to the vest, eager to use one of her secrets to one-up DiNozzo. I use my secrets to play shake-the-hand-with-the-right-and-hold-the-knife-with-the-left game. She get's a laugh, I get a kill.
And last but not least, she's still reeling from Major Kerry's death. The man lived about an hour after he arrived at the hospital. The doctors could not resuscitate him. And, I had lost some of my own people too.
Well, it would sure be interesting to have her on the team.
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