Disclaimer: I own neither NCIS nor Dark Angel.
A/N: It was pretty obvious how over-the-top Dark Angel got in the second season even as I was watching it. However, trying to write Gibbs as he figures out what is going on makes me realize exactly how ludicrous the whole scenario is. It's a good thing I'm writing Gibbs with this because at least he does deadpan absolutely beautifully. But really, canon is completely crack!
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Seeing Eyes
by marbleglove
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When the case finally broke, it all broke at once. There was maybe an eight hour period between the time the first crack appeared and the time it was shattered into a million different pieces and revealed a whole new level of problem. Despite the fact that Gibbs had thought he was working on two different cases—a dead Lt. Colonel and Eyes Only's mysterious bar codes—it turned out they were simply different perspectives on the same case. So when one broke, they both did. And it all broke with one of Abby's more annoying idiosyncrasies.
"Okay, Gibbs?" Abby had been hesitant like she was when she was planning to say something she knew he wouldn't agree with. "You said you think it's a conspiracy, right."
"No. I didn't."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, you didn't exactly say it because you don't say things like 'conspiracy' because you think it's dumb, but you still think it. I know."
That was all true enough. Gibbs ignored it and let her ramble on.
"So I was exploring the deep dark world of conspiracy theorists and wow are there some crazies out there, but there's this one conspiracy theory, it's about bar codes. They say the military was developing super soldiers in test tubes and they were all identified by bar codes tattooed onto them. And Eyes Only did talk about "their cover being compromised." That sounds super-soldier-y, right? Supposedly they're super strong and fast and possibly have x-ray vision although I'm not really sure how that could possibly work, but it would still be really cool. I'd like to have x-ray vision. I wonder what sex would be like if you could see into the other person?"
That was definitely something to think about. Not sex with x-ray vision, but the possibility that one of Tony's more cryptic broadcasts was regarding a super-soldier project. Given his experience with it, Tony would investigate those kind of rumors.
But that was for later, after hours. During the workday, he had a Lt. Colonel's mysterious death to figure out. Although the super-soldier aspect did give him a possibility that he hadn't really followed before.
The avalanche in which the Lt. Colonel had died had been massive and incredibly deadly. It had been clear to even the most suspicious person that no one could have survived that sort of experience, and certainly not uninjured. All the evidence showed that the husband and child had been there with her. Gibbs had spent a lot of time trying to find evidence that he hadn't been.
But what if the husband had been there? And what if he had survived uninjured?
It was a remote forested mountain. There were only so many routes back to civilization. With a conspiracy going on, Gibbs assumed there wouldn't be any need for hitchhiking with strangers who might be convinced to talk. Of course, he only assumed this after he had tracked down any and all possible rides.
The husband's doctor's cell phone records led them to a local sheriff's office; the sheriff's office gave them a patrol car; the patrol care led them to a mansion; the mansion still contained six people, including the missing husband and infant child.
Despite the rather absurd series of connections, it had all been relatively easy to track down once Gibbs had accepted that not only were some of the people involved stronger and faster than normally possibly, they also had all sorts of secret conspiracy connections.
Figuring out who was lying about what and then convincing them to refrain from doing so was a natural talent and much-refined skill of his. The thing with conspiracies was that it allowed an interrogator to play the different people off of each other. And once he had them in cells, it was all the easier.
Capturing them had been difficult, but he'd warned his team to assume strong and fast and to shoot first if they felt threatened. Two of the suspects had been killed but he'd gotten three of them arrested and confined, including the husband of his Navy Lt. Colonel.
Feeling generally malicious, he'd also had them all strip-searched just for the hell of it. The fact that he had actually found matching decorative scarring on them all meant that he had a retroactive excuse for doing so and didn't even have to deal with a chastisement for unnecessary abuse of prisoners. Those scars also gave him a starting point for the interrogations.
He'd had Palmer check his prisoner's reflexes.
Reflexes were wonderful things in that they were quite literally reflex. They couldn't be hidden. Gibbs' entire team had stood by, weapons aimed and ready, as they watched the prisoners attempt to stop their own reflexes.
They had spectacularly quick reflexes.
The process had also given him a chance to analyze the prisoners. He'd chosen to start with the husband.
"You're wife didn't have those kinds of reflexes."
The husband had remained silent.
"She didn't have a barcode either." Still silent, but this time the guy twitched. It was small but it was something.
"Of course, neither do you. You have a scar. I suppose it could be covering up a tattoo. Wouldn't want anyone to think you were owned."
That clearly struck a nerve. "It's not covering up a tattoo. That should be obvious."
Gibbs hid a smile with practice. The guy didn't want anyone to think he would have something as lowly as a tattoo. It was a definite weak point. "Of course, maybe you didn't rate a unique identifier like a tattoo. You just got a makers' mark, I suppose, just like all the others." The man glared but didn't speak.
"So were you grown in a vat? Not much of one for a home life if you don't even have a mother." He provoked. "Your son has a mother, though. Well, had one, at least."
The man was seriously indifferent. It was infuriating, but Gibbs held back. Interrogations broke the suspect not the interrogator.
Gibbs had left him to stew for a while he regained more control of himself. He spent some time with the other prisoners. They also got defensive about having scars but not tattoos, but they didn't care nearly as much about the kid. It was pretty clear that they didn't care about anyone who didn't have a matching scar, not even a kid. It made Gibbs even more sure that some kids didn't pass the "test" that gave them the scar.
It gave him enough to information to go back to the father.
"Your friends don't think your kid will survive. He's probably too weak. After all, your steroid use didn't keep you out of trouble, did it?"
The man sneered but didn't comment on the fact that it was clearly not steroids that had changed him.
"Of course, you weren't good enough for a barcode so it doesn't really surprise anyone that you failed so miserably here." Oh yeah, Gibbs thought at the suspect, get angry. You're already upset, but get angry, lose control. Tell me how wrong I am. He kept talking. "Your son, too. Don't worry, I'll send him somewhere nice, to some nice family who'll take care of him and make sure he doesn't feel too badly about never being able to earn a scar."
"He'll get one! We take care of our own!" The mention of a test definitely set off Gibbs' instincts. A test for an infant, one that left a scar, would be bad. He left it alone for now, though. He'd get back to it later.
"Oh, but he's not one of you, is he? After all, there's no scar on him yet, is there? And his mother was too weak, wasn't she?"
"She doesn't matter!" The man practically screamed.
"Of course not. She wasn't part of the cult, after all. No scar on her. Certainly no tattoo."
The man practically turned purple.
It was everything that Gibbs could have hoped for in an interrogation. The man was proud of his actions and his cult and, once he broke his silence, it all spilled out.
He was nothing like those miserable freak-of-nature transgenics! He was part of a millennia-old breeding program! He was pure! He would inherit the earth! He would inherit it soon! Soon Gibbs and all the weaklings like him would be dead in the coming plague! His son was not a weakling!
The case he had found was cracked open entirely. He had a suspect in custody with means, motive, and opportunity who was confessing. But instead of resolving anything, solving the case just showed exactly how much trouble they were still in. Because for all that the man's ranting reminded Gibbs of an over-the-top Hollywood-villain plan, it was still utterly terrifying.
He left the man still ranting in the interrogation room.
As soon as the door closed and locked, he shouted, "Palmer! Go study the bodies downstairs. Get Abby samples of everything you think of. See what exactly their immune system can take that most people can't."
This wasn't a terrorist cell just trying to bring down the government. This was a cult that was seriously trying to commit genocide on the entire human race. He could hardly make himself believe it was true and yet he couldn't quite convince himself that it wasn't either.
It thoroughly pissed him off.
It pissed him off that a Lt. Colonel of the U.S. Navy had been murdered by her own husband because "she had fulfilled her role of birthing a third child" and after that was "an extraneous distraction."
It pissed him of that a suspect's threats of widespread plague was becoming more credible by the moment.
And finally it pissed him off that, despite all of the reasons to be unhappy, he was actually pleased to have a valid reason to track down DiNozzo.
It all pissed him off.
He scheduled a transport for himself and his team to Seattle, Washington.
