Title: Unwritten Laws
Word Count: 813
Characters: Gibbs
Genre: General
Pairings: None
Line: "I don't believe in coincidences." - Gibbs, First Appeared in Season One, 'My Other Left Foot'


"You almost done with that report, Probie?" A gruff voice asked.

"If by 'almost' you mean 'not even close' then, yeah. Almost done, Boss." Came the sarcastic response.

Gibbs looked up when a paper ball whizzed by his ear.

Mike's glare was like ice and he pointed one knobby finger in his direction just to be sure the Gunny understood he was serious, "the next one won't miss if you keep up with the smart ass comments," he narrowed his eyes, "and it won't be made of paper either."

Gibbs nodded smartly, swallowing a 'yessir' that threatened to cross his lips. Old habits tended to die hard, but his use of 'sir' seemed to be one Mike planned on breaking him of.

He returned his pen to his paper, but the words still wouldn't come. Just like they hadn't been coming for the past hour and now instead of overhead lights on the blank sheet, it was illuminated by a small desk lamp.

After watching the young agent glare at his paper for almost ten minutes without moving a muscle, a trick he had no doubt learned in the Corps, Mike sighed.

"What seems to be the problem, kid?" he asked, rubbing his face with both hands and mentally calculating how long it had been since he'd slept.

Gibbs looked up, "the second shooter."

"What about him?"

"He wasn't supposed to be there. Everything in the evidence, in the profile, the MO, it all pointed to a solo act. Bu it's a hell of a coincidence for a second guy to be there on the same day, at the same time that we were there to nab our dirt bag, and have it be completely unrelated."

Mike curled a finger at the other man, his expression unreadable. Obediently, Gibbs stood and crossed the space to stand before him.

"Boss?"

Mike reached up and smacked Gibbs lightly but firmly on the back of the head. "There are no such things as coincidences, Probie. Never forget that."

Gibbs straightened and rubbed the back of his close shaven head with a slight wince, "Right, sorry Boss." He said, and then started back across the room to sit down at his own desk.

"Hey," Mike barked.

Gibbs looked up and he raised his eyebrows, watching curiously as Mike gathered his coat and checked his pack of cigarettes for the road.

"If there's something bugging you about the 'second shooter' idea, then don't just write up a report and let it go. Keep investigating, Probie, until you're satisfied," he lifted his hand and lit a cigarette in his mouth and, after a brief puff, held it between two fingers and pointed at the younger agent, "until you're satisfied."

Gibbs furrowed his brow in thought and nodded again. Mike gave him a slight nod in return and headed for the elevator. He wasn't really surprised when he got to the doors and turned back to see the former Marine had pulled out the case file once more and was reaching for the telephone. He smiled and shook his head, the rush of nicotine doing much to improve his mood.

"And Gunny," he held back a smile when, once again, Gibbs looked up immediately and expectantly, "don't apologize. It's a sign of weakness."

The elevator doors closed between them and Gibbs nodded to himself.

"Yessir."


A/N: Wow. I bet you guys thought I had forgotten this fic! Not even close. I've just been pining and sweating and fretting and thinking over this chap. I stupidly put up a line I had absolutely NO ideas for. But finally this came to me. Now, for my next trick...

Next Line: "You're the man, Ducky. Why can't I find a guy like you?"