Thanks to everyone who reviewed and alerted.
Simmons meets the team. The case continues. Vance rethinks his opinions.
When Simmons came back into the bullpen, he noticed that there were many agents milling around but only two from the team he would be working with. His junior officer was sorting out some security passes for them both, so he leant back against the wall and observed the two agents.
Special Agent McGee was rapidly typing away at his computer, his concentration unwavering, as his fingers rapidly did their work. His desk was neat and orderly; pens and pencils were all in a holder, there was a pile of paperwork stacked neatly to one side; even the notices pinned up on the sidings were crisp and straight. The Junior Field Agent's ready-bag was safely tucked away behind his desk; it was clean, with not a speck of dirt visible.
The agent himself was dressed in a navy-blue suit, with an ironed light-blue button-down shirt and a striped tie. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was neatly combed; despite the bags under his eyes, Agent McGee looked remarkably well-groomed for someone who had been working non-stop with a reduced team.
All in all, Simmons' impression of Agent McGee was one of a well-ordered, efficient Junior Field Agent, who was clearly skilled with technology. Simmons noticed that there were certain stark contrasts with the Senior Field Agent; he was sure that the differences between McGee's orderliness and DiNozzo's organised chaos lead to interesting results.
He shifted his attention to Officer David. She had a clear exotic look about her, although he thought she looked more South American than Israeli. The waves in her hair were hidden in a tight bun. Her clothes were dark and figure-hugging but practical for field-work. Unlike her colleague, Officer David was not spending her time on the computer; she was multi-tasking…flicking through some paper reports whilst on the phone, frustrated with whoever was on the other end.
Her desk was not as neat as Agent McGee's but had far less clutter; Simmons couldn't tell whether this was because she filed things away or that she was simply quicker with her paperwork. He walked over to her desk to announce himself and saw that the draw that held her gun was slightly ajar; constant vigilance from her Mossad training had obviously followed her across the Atlantic.
Ziva gave the police officer a nod and directed him to Tony's desk for a seat. Simmons, who was carrying a large cardboard box and had a rucksack on his back, walked over and settled the box down on top of the paperwork that littered DiNozzo's desk. He took a seat and placed the bag, which was full of evidence, in his lap.
About five minutes later, a young woman exited the elevator and headed over towards Simmons. She was also carrying a box and a rucksack. Because there was no space on Tony's desk she settled the box down on the empty one diagonally across…Gibbs' desk.
Ziva scrutinised the young woman, who was obviously the extra set of hands Simmons had been talking about. She was slim but shapely. She was out of uniform and was dressed in some faded jeans, a t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie. Her trainers were well worn, and a blue scarf was wrapped around her neck. Her slightly wavy, mousy-brown hair was swept back in a loose pony-tail. Her skin was pale but clear, with two rosy cheeks. Her large eyes were grass-green with dark curly lashes. She wore no make-up. Ziva felt a little jealous that someone could look so pretty with zero effort.
The young woman went back towards her boss and handed him a security pass. Simmons stuffed it into his coat pocket. The young officer smirked, leaned forwards and reached into the pocket; she pulled the pass out and clipped it to a breast pocket on the outside of the coat. Simmons glared at her. Ziva noticed the familiarity and wondered if the two officers were more than just colleagues.
After leaving the hospital, Tony went back to his bridge over the Potomac. He knew that the case needed solving, but he also knew that was more likely to happen if he had a clear head. He gave himself half and hour to sit and think things over.
He had finally accepted the fact that Gibbs did not blame him for Jenny's death; he was aware that he would never completely absolve himself, but already his boss' words were sinking in and helping to ease the ache in his chest just a little. Things were always slightly easier when there were no pointing fingers.
He pondered over Gibbs' words about Mexico too; 'when I went to Mexico I was doing what I thought was right for me.' Could he really stay pissed at Gibbs for leaving if that was the way he truly felt? Here Tony was, leaving his team because he felt it was the right thing for him to do…so he couldn't stay pissed off with Gibbs about leaving…not unless he wanted to be a real hypocritical bastard, and that was one of many of his father's traits that Tony strove to avoid. Tony realised that his anger over the way Gibbs returned would be unlikely to ever truly fade; it had hurt like hell and he'd already been burned too many times by people who should have given a damn about him.
He knew now that Gibbs wanted him to stay at NCIS; truth be told he knew that when Gibbs had picked the lock to Vance's office in order to steal his letter of resignation. Now though, he had heard the words straight from the horse's mouth. It was nice to feel wanted…especially by a man like Gibbs who generally tried to pass the image that he never needed anyone or anything…other than his boat and a bottle of bourbon of course.
He knew though, that no words or actions coming from Gibbs (or anyone else for that matter) would change the way he felt about the Grenouille operation; it was something he was going to have to learn to live with. Réné Benoit was dead and Jeanne would never talk to him again. Nothing would ever change those two facts.
The only consequence of that whole fiasco that affected others was that it led to the beginning of the end…it made Tony doubt! Doubt Gibbs, doubt the Director, doubt his team, but mostly doubt himself. There was a loss of trust between everyone involved…how could that ever be resolved?
Tony sighed, not able to come up with any semblance of an answer. He stood up and stretched; the tenuous tendrils of trust between the team would have to hold through this final case. He straightened himself out and headed back to NCIS, hoping Simmons was back with the evidence.
Ziva had no-one else to call and wanted to dive into the case files sat waiting in the two boxes but Simmons told her that he would rather wait for the Senior Field Agent before they started. Tony, as acting team leader, would need to sign for the evidence too, and so that could not yet be processed.
"You'll have to excuse my father," said the young woman, who had been silent until then. "He's ex-military and still takes the chain-of-command thing very seriously."
Ziva raised an eyebrow; "Father?"
"Yep" said Simmons; "Officer David, meet my daughter, Deputy Rebecca Simmons. This one here decided to follow in her old man's footsteps; she's doing pretty well too."
"You did not want to join the military then?" Ziva asked, with a small grin. However, her question evoked a melancholy in both officers that she hadn't been expecting nor could she explain; she thought it would be wise to drop the subject for now. Thankfully, the ping of the elevator and the opening doors revealed Tony.
"How is Gibbs?" she asked, not having been able to see him for herself recently.
"He's ok; playing games with the nurses." Tony smiled, remembering the banter between Gibbs and the nurse, Maya; he recalled his boss being on the receiving end of a head-slap and his smile grew wider.
He looked around the room. McGee was typing away quickly at his computer, locked in his own technological world. Ziva was sat at her desk, tapping her pen out of boredom. Simmons was sat at his desk, a rucksack in his arms. The other officer was leaning against Gibbs' desk. She was very pretty, he noticed.
Ziva saw the appraising look Tony gave Rebecca Simmons and tried to hide a smile. "Tony, this is…"
"…Deputy Rebecca Simmons" the young woman interrupted, holding out her hand for him to shake.
"Deputy Simmons?" Tony half asked, half stated with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't you just love nepotism" Rebecca said with a wicked grin.
Tony gave a small laugh. He liked her; a pretty woman with a sense of humour…and an ex-SEAL for a father so probably best not to try and take it anywhere then, thought Tony wryly. "Well, shall we get started then?"
Simmons held out a clipboard; "You need to sign for the evidence, then we can get started."
Tony signed his name with a flourish; his chat with Gibbs and the easy-going nature of both of the Simmons had eased his melancholic mood. "We should get the evidence down to Abby as soon as possible and then take the autopsy notes and photos to Ducky; see if he can get anything else from them. Leave the paperwork here for now, we'll find a conference room to spread out in and then we can compare notes." He shook McGee out of his work-reverie and nodded towards the lift.
They walked towards the elevator with everything they needed in hand. Both Ziva and McGee were used to the way Gibbs dealt with local LEO's; a brusque manner and very much a game of follow the leader, which was always Gibbs. They were surprised that Tony wasn't adopting Gibbs' method of dealing with members of the law enforcement community who were over-stepping their territory.
Tony was thankful that the local LEO's seemed to be people he could work with. He remembered his days on the force; cases could be shot to hell while the various different jurisdictions argued over who had the lead. He just wanted to solve a case!
Vance had been at his usual spot on the balcony, watching as DiNozzo interacted with the local law enforcement officers. He too had expected a Gibbs-type pissing contest and was surprised that the Senior Field Agent seemed so willing to work alongside these officers without the usual show of animosity.
He knew he and DiNozzo didn't see eye-to-eye, but Vance could not honestly deny that the younger man intrigued him. He wanted to know what it was about the man that had Gibbs demanding for his return to the fold. He wanted to understand why Abby, one of Gibbs' most loyal followers, had set a deadline for DiNozzo's return date. He wanted to know what had happened for DiNozzo to have been offered a prime job in Spain and why the younger man had turned it down.
He had read over DiNozzo's personnel file trying to find something to explain why DiNozzo was the way he was; so far he hadn't found anything, but then there was a lot of information that personnel files didn't contain. DiNozzo was a walking contradiction. Vance might frown at the agent's play-boy antics, but DiNozzo never seemed to be late with his paperwork, and often came up with the crucial bit of evidence.
He remembered the piece of card offered to DiNozzo by FBI Agent Fornell. If his agent was wanted so much by both Gibbs and Fornell could he really afford to let DiNozzo go?
There was a lot resting on this case, mused Vance; so much more than catching a torturer and a murderer.
Simmons hadn't met Abby and she was honestly not what he was expecting. The three agents were dressed quite smartly; both DiNozzo and McGee in suits and Ziva in chic black trousers and a dark roll-neck jumper.
As they neared the lab Simmons felt the floor vibrate slightly with the beat of the music coming from beyond the doors. He looked at his daughter, who had also raised an eyebrow in question.
Walking through the doors they both saw the back of a woman. The white coat gave off the appearance of a professional who took their job seriously, but the image was shattered by the deafening heavy-metal music, the bobbing head with the pig-tails flicking back and forth in time with the beat, and the boots…the very high-heeled, very big, very black, buckled boots.
DiNozzo turned off her music and she wheeled round with a half-moan of protest. They caught a brief glance of her attire; a short blood-red tartan skirt and a white t-shirt criss-crossed with a spider web design. They also saw patches of skin that held various tattoos of differing shapes and sizes…and a dog-collar?! A gothic lab-rat…definitely not what either officer was expecting.
They also were not expecting the way she flung her arms around Tony's neck and kissed him on the cheek. Both officers had been in their small town for many years, and the place was loaded with all sorts of weird and wonderful kooky characters, but this team seemed to hold even weirder folk.
Abby looked over towards the officers. She remembered Tony saying something about the big guy driving him back to DC, so straight away she thought he deserved a chance. Most would have left Tony on the side of the road, but this guy had taken the time to make sure he got back ok. She'd be nice to him, she decided; Gibbs' usual LEO treatment be damned.
The other officer looked to be Tony's type; in fact, the woman had a certain resemblance to Jeanne. She didn't look the same but she had the same sort of features; the same mousy-brown slightly wavy hair, the slim but curvy figure, the piercing eyes…
"Abby, this is Officer Simmons," Tony gestured to the well-built older man, "and this is Deputy Rebecca Simmons" he waved a hand towards the young police officer. "This is Abby Scuito, forensic specialist extraordinaire." Abby smiled at the compliment and shook both proffered hands.
She then spied the bags and guessed that they must hold the much awaited evidence. She held out both hands, one for each bag. "Give" she demanded, in her best authoritative tone. Both bags were handed over. "Ok, now scoot. There's a lot of work to do and I need my lab and my music. I'll come find you when I get something. Of course that might happen faster if I had a Caff-Pow."
Simmons had no idea what a 'Caff-Pow' was but evidently DiNozzo did. The Senior Field Agent gave a small laugh and flicked one of Abby's pig-tails. "If I have the time, I promise I will get you one."
Their journey to autopsy had no vibrating floors but as they got closer they heard a voice…only one voice.
"He talks to himself?" asked Rebecca.
Tony smiled, "Not to himself, no; he talks to the bodies." He saw Rebecca's eyes widen in disbelief. The doors slid open and they were able to hear the content of Ducky's monologue.
"…was really quite foolish, but boys will be boys. Of course they hadn't quite thought things through…the cold always attacks the extremities first, and more often than not people spend so much time worrying about frostbite on their noses and their fingers and toes that they forget that…"
"Ducky" Tony interrupted, guessing where the story was going. He gave a slight wince and subconsciously moved his hand to the front of his trousers, 'frostbite…down there?!' he shuddered. He shook the thought from his head, made the introductions and outlined what they were hoping from him.
"Well Anthony dear boy, it's not a body," he said looking at the photos and autopsy report, "but it will have to do!"
"I'm sorry Doctor Mallard," Simmons apologised, "but his sister refused a second autopsy; the body hasn't been released yet and if you really want it I can arrange for its delivery."
"That's quite alright Officer Simmons, I know of Doctor Wilkes' reputation' he noted of the Officer's M.E. "This should more than suffice. And please, call me Ducky."
Simmons smiled, "Then please call me Alex." He liked the genial old Brit; Ducky seemed to take his profession seriously and obviously held a deep respect for the dead and ensured they received the right treatment. He had also noticed the almost grandfatherly affection the older man spent on DiNozzo. The Medical Examiner was certainly not old enough to be DiNozzo's grandfather, but the fact that he had someone looking out for him like that brought a smile to Simmons' face.
They left Ducky with the files and a cassette recording the county M.E. had made during the autopsy. They headed back to the bullpen, where the team gathered their notes on the cold case and the officers gathered their boxes of paperwork.
McGee saw the pretty young officer lean down to collect her box and he stepped in and offered, stumbling a little on his wording. Rebecca smiled and thanked McGee for his offer but said she could manage.
They settled down in one of the conference rooms and sorted through the paperwork, grouping reports from the cellar into different categories; there was one pile of reports on findings from the tools, another on the biological findings from the chair.
Tony had Ziva and McGee share all their data on the cold-case that had originally led them to the Henderson farm. And in turn they listened to the officers as they listed their findings.
Several hours had passed and it was dark outside. Tony leant back in his chair and stretched. "I'm hungry. We should take a break and eat. What do people want? Chinese? Indian? Mexican?"
Simmons felt his stomach agree to the offer of food. He knew his daughter's vote would be with Chinese, and while he preferred Mexican he could quite happily guzzle down some rice with some crispy duck. "Chinese sounds good to me. I'll help you get the food."
They took orders from everyone and Tony had been made to pinky-promise that a Caff-Pow would be delivered to the lab on their return.
Tony walked quietly down the street to the nearby Chinese Takeaway and Simmons walked alongside him, equally as quiet. It had been a long day and they had all been working with their nose to the grindstone.
"So what made your daughter want to be a small-town cop?" Tony asked, interrupting Alex's musings.
"We've always been a small, close-knit family." He gave a small wry chuckle, "Some people would probably consider it very suffocating, but every holiday we get together, try to make at least one meal a week too. After Nate…" he swallowed back the grief that rose every time that name was mentioned.
Tony caught the gesture, heard the melancholy in his voice and saw the pain in his eyes. He placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and gave a quick squeeze but he didn't let it linger there; not knowing the man that well he didn't feel particularly comfortable comforting a man over something he knew nothing about.
Alex knew that Tony would be confused. "Nate was my son…"
"…its ok" interrupted Tony, "You don't have to explain." He didn't want to evoke unhappy memories for the man.
"I know," said Simmons with a small but grateful smile. "Nate was my son, my oldest child; he wanted to be just like me. I was so angry when he told me that he'd enlisted in the Corps. I don't regret signing up; I'm proud to have served my country and I've fought alongside some of the finest men I've ever met …but I didn't want that life for my children. They were supposed to have safe jobs, you know, in a bank or something."
Simmons shook his head, trying to forget the arguments he and his son had had back then. "I grew to accept that it was his decision…that I couldn't protect my little boy forever…that he was no longer a little boy!" Tony smiled at the last part. "I was proud of him; he came back from his first tour of Afghanistan unscathed, physically anyway. His CO always had glowing words for him too; said he was heroic out there, respected his COs, kept his head and watched out for his fellow Marines. You can't get much better praise for a first tour.
"Then he went on his second tour. Nine days before he was set to return their Chinook caught some fire from an RPG team as they were going in to land, to deploy troops for some mountain recon mission. The accompanying Apache managed to destroy the RPG team and the casualties were casevac-ed, but the corpsman couldn't do anything; he was dead before they landed back behind the wire."
"I'm sorry!" Tony knew it sounded trite, but what else could he say.
"When Rebecca told me she was joining the police force I didn't know what to think. It wasn't the military, but it could still be dangerous. Then she told me she would be working with me, at home, and…we work well together, and I can make sure she stays safe. It's the most I can ask for I think."
"What does your wife say about it?" Tony didn't want to pry, but he liked Simmons, and he wanted to know the man he would work his last ever NCIS case with.
"She died, when the children were younger. Cancer."
"Sorry" Tony said again. He knew exactly how trite that sounded, having lost his own mother at a young age.
Simmons saw the grief on DiNozzo's own face and wondered who it was he had lost. He hadn't meant for the conversation to steer in this direction, but he liked Tony and wanted to be honest with him. "Let's get the food and a Caff-Pow. What is a 'Caff-Pow' by the way?"
Tony laughed.
They returned, food, drink and the all-important Caff-Pow in hand to find Abby pacing outside their make-shift office, paper in hand.
"Abby?" Tony asked cautiously, certain he didn't want to hear whatever Abby had found out to make her this anxious.
"Tony, thank God you're back." She made a leap towards him, but instead of stealing the Caff-Pow from his clutch as he'd expected, she grabbed his elbow and the she grabbed Simmons' elbow and steered them both into the conference room.
"I've been running the DNA from the chair and the tools against the military database, and three of the five match dead Marines from our cold-cases. And Tony, the DNA sample from one of those needles matches our guy."
"Our guy?" asked Tony, mind mired in confusion. "Who is 'our guy' Abby?"
"Our guy…Ensign Spry, the DB pulled from the Potomac with the BDU!"
"Oh" Tony was surprised. He expected a case like this to have twists and turns but this…no…he was not expecting this! "Oh" he said again.
Another chapter done! Let me know what you think.
I used the military words because, as a former soldier, they would be ingrained in Simmons' mind.
Some of you will probably not need them, but here are some military translations below for those of you who do…
A 'Chinook' is a twin-engined helicopter with two rotors, one at the front and one at the back. It's popular in the military and is mainly used for transport of both troops and equipment. The Black Hawk has altitude and temperature limitations and so the Chinooks are generally used for the higher mountainous operations.
'RPG' stands for Rocket Propelled Grenade; it is a hand-held weapon normally used for anti-tank fire. It shoots an unguided explosive. Many were adapted for use as anti-air guns during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. By time of the US invasion of Afghanistan, Stingers were readily available and had become the anti-air weapon of choice, but RPG's are still being used. Because they are unguided, they are not great with accuracy, which is why they work in teams…a better chance of hitting the target.
'Casevac' means casualty evacuation from a combat zone.
'Corpsman' is the word navy personnel use for medic.
'The Wire' means the base, usually referring to the wire that marks the perimeter. If someone is said to stay 'behind the wire' it means they stay on base; 'beyond the wire,' or 'over the wire' means going off base.
Next Up – Ziva and McGee clash with the Simmons, and Tony has to act as peacekeeper to try and get the job done. He goes to give Gibbs another quick visit too!
