a/n - It's Monday and nobody went to the hospital over the weekend. Isn't that great? Can you believe my grandson will be five tomorrow? It doesn't seem possible.
Just so you know, there's an order to this chapter. It's as follows - Read. Scream. Review. Scream again. Third scream is optional, but likely. You have been warned.
Clayton Jarvis didn't even slow down as he entered his office. "I want a video conference with Admiral McGee right now." As he waited, he reviewed what he knew about the man. ,Dividing his time between his home base at Naval Submarine Base New London, Connecticut where he commanded Submarine Group Two, and Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in Maine, where one of his subs had been undergoing a major overhaul, Admiral Benjamin H. McGee took his responsibilities very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he had not left the Shipyard since the fire had broken out three days earlier.
By the time Jarvis had his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, the Command Center at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard was on his screen. The room was still a chaotic sight, as dozens of both civilian and uniformed men and women moved in and out of the camera's view. The Admiral was standing in the middle of the room, at parade rest, his immaculate uniform contrasting with the exhaustion Jarvis saw in his eyes.
Admiral McGee started barking out his report the moment the image of the SecNav was clear. "Mr. Secretary, Sir, the fire was contained approximately twelve hours ago and the last of the hot spots are being mopped up now. The fire never reached the on-board nuclear material and the reactor is safe. The last of the firefighters have been examined and there's been no exposure to radiation among them or the crew."
"Thank you, Admiral, I have been receiving the reports. You and your people have handled the situation in an exemplary fashion and you have my thanks. However, I must insist that you make the NCIS investigation your top priority at the moment."
"In all due respect, Sir, we still need to inventory the nuclear material and other sensitive materials before we just turn the sub over to a group of civilians."
Jarvis shook his head. "Which is why it is imperative that the formal investigation proceed without delay. If this fire was also the result of a terrorist attack, they need all the evidence as quickly as possible, especially after the attack earlier today."
"Attack?" The Admiral looked as confused as the rest of the officers and enlisted personnel around him. "I'm afraid we haven't surfaced long enough to hear about the outside world in days, Sir."
That made Jarvis feel a little better about the fact that he hadn't been asked about the Admiral's son and he decided to break the news a little easier than he'd been planning. "Your dedication is to be commended, Admiral, but Harper Dearing, the man identified as the terrorist behind the other fires, set off a car bomb at NCIS Headquarters a few hours ago."
The Admiral paled and anyone standing behind him would have seen his hands clench behind his back. "Casualties, Sir?"
"High and still climbing. Agent McGee was tracking Dearing and managed to find his hiding place right before the bomb exploded. He risked his life to give us that information, you should be proud of him." Jarvis paused, giving the other man an opportunity to ask about his son. McGee closed his eyes for a brief second, but stayed on course.
"I assume this Dearing will be in custody shortly?"
Jarvis was disappointed, but it wasn't his place to tell the other man how to treat his grown son. "The FBI is preparing to take him down as we speak."
"FBI? Not a team from NCIS?"
"They don't have enough uninjured agents left in DC to conduct a raid at the moment and time is of the essence."
"Understood, Sir."
Jarvis paused again, giving the Admiral another opportunity to ask about his son, but there were no questions. "We need all the evidence that can be collected from every possible attack on the Navy by Dearing. The agents that are aboard the Shipyard need immediate and complete access to everything they deem necessary."
"Yes, Sir."
"Your son is a brave man, Admiral. It takes a lot of balls to know a bomb is about to go off, yet still do your job. Dearing's capture will be due in a large part to Agent McGee's determination to bring him to justice. You should be proud of him." Jarvis signaled to his assistant to cut the signal, hoping that both parts of his message were understood. Satisfied, he picked up his phone and called the agents waiting for access to the sub.
-NCIS-
Benjamin McGee loved the order and discipline the Navy brought to his life and he relied on that to keep his mind on the problems at hand. He reached for the latest status report on the damaged sub as soon as the screen in front of him went blank, ignoring the concerned glances around him. "These temperature reading are almost an hour old, get me a new set of readings."
His Yeoman passed on the order before turning to face the Admiral, knowing the older man would not take a personal moment until everything was back to normal. It gave him the perfect excuse. "Would you like me to call your wife?"
"My wife?" His attention already back on the task at hand, Admiral McGee barely glanced at his administrative aide.
"More than likely the bombing at the Washington Yard made the news and I'm sure you don't want her to worry." Yeoman Hayes waited for an answer, forcing himself to keep a blank expression.
Barbara's MS had been well controlled for years, but stress could have a devastating effect on the delicate balance she'd worked so hard to achieve. "Yes, thank you, Yeoman, but be sure to let her know that everything is under control and she and my daughter are to stay home. The last thing they need in Washington are civilians underfoot. Timothy will speak to her when he can. Make sure she understands that she isn't to worry."
"Of course, Sir." After retreating to the outer office, it was a quick phone call. Mrs. McGee was grateful for any news about her son and she understood how her husband didn't want her to travel to DC. Hayes assured her that the Admiral would be privy to any new information and that he would make sure to pass it along before hanging up the phone. By then, no one was paying attention to him and he was able to make his second call. The recipient was quite grateful and Hayes was sure the money would be quite nice – nicer than he was getting putting up with Taskmaster McGee.
-NCIS-
Dr. Pitt returned to the exam room with another nurse and a handful of IV bags. He moved to stand where Abby could see him. "We're going to get you started on some medication to help clear the toxins from your system, okay?"
"Gibbs?"
"He's already being treated." That seemed to relax both women and Brad watched out of the corner of his eye as Ziva swayed before grabbing the arms of the wheelchair. "How are you doing, Ziva? Are you feeling any worse?"
Ziva closed her eyes at the onslaught of dizziness. "I am fine. Concern yourself with Abby."
Brad wasn't convinced and continued to watch her as he supervised Abby's treatment. Once the IV was established, he moved over to squat down in front of Ziva. She didn't look up at him so he reached out and lifted her chin. He got one look at the uneven pupils before her eyes rolled back and she pitched forward.
"Ziva!" Abby screamed as her friend fell. Dr. Pitt caught Ziva, preventing further injury as he eased her to the ground. One of the nurses ran to get help while the other dropped to her knees to assist Dr. Pitt. They had just gotten Ziva laying flat when she started to seize.
"Get me 5mg of Diazepam."
"Yes, Doctor." The nurse scrambled to her feet, shoving the empty wheelchair out of the way to help protect Ziva.
"What's happening, what's wrong with her?" Abby wrung her hands as she watched them try to stabilize her friend.
Brad didn't have time to look up as he answered. "Her head injury is worse than we thought." He turned to the nurse at his side. "Looks like a slow bleed. Let's get her downstairs for an emergency scan and call neurology. Tell them she just got bumped to the top of the list."
The first nurse returned with two orderlies and a gurney. Quickly they had the unconscious woman on her way downstairs, Dr. Pitt barking orders. For the first time since the bomb blast, Abby found herself totally alone.
-NCIS-
"Mom?" Sarah watched as her mother set the phone down after saying very little.
Barbara took a deep breath before glancing at the clock. The message from her husband's assistant had reminded her how close she'd come to being late for her next dose of glatiramer, the only drug that had any effect on her Multiple Sclerosis. She walked into the kitchen and prepared her injection, raising her voice so that Sarah could hear her. Even after all these years, Sarah still couldn't watch her mother inject herself.
"That was your father's yeoman. The SecNav called your father personally to tell him that your brother survived the explosion."
"Tim's alive?" Sarah was at the door into the kitchen, not looking down at her mother's hands. "They're sure?"
"Yes." Daily injection done, Barbara dropped the used syringe into the sharps container. "Now, apparently he's part of the team tracking down the people responsible, so that's probably why we haven't heard from him."
The way her mother stumbled over the explanation told Sarah that she wasn't totally convinced either. "Tim always lets us know. Always."
"I know." Barbara leaned heavily against the counter. "I know, but your father is right, we would just be in the way. He ordered you and I to stay here and wait for all of this to be over."
"But Mom..."
"No, he's right. I would just be in the way."
Sarah didn't have an answer. Other than the daily injections, it was quite easy to forget her mother was ill. It had been years since she'd had a serious episode, but the entire family worked hard to limit her stress, the major cause of every relapse she'd ever had. Lost in thought, she almost missed it when her mother started talking again.
"Of course, your father didn't pass along any orders about your grandmother." Barbara smiled at her daughter.
"That's perfect." Sarah returned her mother's smile. "She has more contacts and influence in DC anyways."
-NCIS-
It was tempting, but Harper Dearing set the phone down on the workbench rather than throw it against the wall. He'd spent so much time and money covering his trail, it seemed inconceivable that the Geek on Gibbs' team had found him. He'd been glad to see that Gibbs had survived the blast, a quick death wasn't what he wanted for the man, but he didn't expect to be battling the FBI so quickly.
Still cursing the geek, Dearing finished running the wires across the warehouse, tying the C-4 at each door to one single trigger. He'd planned on using this to kill off Gibbs eventually, after he'd driven the man insane with grief, but taking out the FBI would be almost as good as he found another way to bring Gibbs to him for a final battle.
Trigger and remote in place, Dearing picked up his duffel bag as he smiled at the homeless man he'd found. With an unlimited supply of food and booze, the old man had no intention of wandering away from the building and his build and coloring was close enough to Dearing's to buy him more time. Once they had the DNA sorted out, Dearing would be set up in a new spot with a new plan.
Taking one last look around, Dearing climbed down the ladder and into the storm drain that ran under the building, locking the access door behind him. He'd memorized the layout of the pipes, knowing exactly where to go. It was a twenty minute jog to the chained grate that let the water out into the creek during a rainstorm. No one had any reason to walk the waterway this time of the year so no one had noticed the padlock was new.
Near the entrance was a backpack that Dearing grabbed as he undid the chain and slipped out the grate before sealing it back up. Pulling out a faded denim jacket and a hard hat, he easily transformed into one of the dozens of laborers that worked the warehouses and docks. With all the talk about the earlier bombing, no one questioned one quiet worker going about the job site. Duffel thrown over one shoulder, Dearing picked a building that would give him a good view. By the time several FBI vans parked the required two blocks away from his warehouse, Harper Dearing was settled in to watch the show.