A/N: I swear my muse's strange. I struggle with writer's block for a week, only to write this down in over two days. I mean, over 5,700 words? That's gotta be the longest chapter in this story so far. I guess writing the last chapter helped 'unblock' myself or something, and so did your reviews (which are much appreciated). I hope the muse lasts for a while, though. I need it. Oh, and there's some Kibbs fluff in this chapter as well.
You know how I feel about reviews, favorites, follows, and constructive criticism.
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. I also don't take credit for actual dialogue used in the episode, "Model Behavior" (3.11), even although most of them have been altered to fit this story. Any resemblance to dialogue from other TV shows, movies, or elsewhere is purely coincidental.
Chapter Twenty-Six:
Past Modeling
By GallaudetLurker
December 14, 2005
7:42 AM
NCIS Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
"Please?"
It should be a crime, Gibbs thought to himself as he stared at Kate, who continued to look at him pleadingly.
Knowing that today was Awards Day, Gibbs thought about calling in late. However, he'd received a case package on his front porch and knew he had no choice but go to work. He'd decided to delay the inevitable as much as possible by doing the unthinkable: following the speed limit and obeying traffic rules.
It'd taken much (read: all and then some) of his patience and severely grated his nerves, and the coffee made the torture slightly bearable. The excruciatingly slow drive to the Headquarters took about thirty minutes, instead of the usual ten, and he'd figured out that the award ceremony was nearly over, if not already. He was in the clear.
Or so as he thought before he was ambushed by Kate while hurrying over to the elevators. In hindsight, he should've taken the damn stairs, which was right next to the front double doors.
"Awards ain't my thing, Katie," he said for the third or so time, inching toward the elevator. Kate took a step in front of him, blocking his way once again.
"It's not my thing too. Heck, it's probably not everyone's thing, but it'd be nice to be honored for your work." Kate said, her eyes locking with his once again as she placed her hands on her waist. Feeling his resolve begin to falter by these hazel eyes, Gibbs looked around the nearly-deserted atrium.
"Taking down criminals and terrorists's enough for me," he replied. Kate let out a snort.
"Still. It's nice to receive a medal of honor. You've skipped the awards five times in the past ten years, so why not go today?" Gibbs raised his eyebrows slightly. How did she know that? He was going to have a nice, long talk with DiNozzo later.
"Can't I go to the next one?" Gibbs glanced at the elevator. It was so close, yet so far away. Kate shook her head.
"Then you'd skip it too, and we'd go back to square one," Kate retorted, fixing him a mild glare. "Why not go and get it out of the way? Just this one time."
He let out a sigh. "Katie—"
"Please? For me?"
His resolve was crumbling further. He tried to look away once again, but his damn mind chose that particular moment to disobey him. He swore he could hear evil laughter in the back of his mind. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he was about to open his mouth when something cut him short. His eyes widened, and his gut clenched. Oh no...not that. Anything but that.
Kate had stuck her bottom lip out a bit, her eyes rounding slightly. "Please, Jethro?"
As much as he wanted to resist it further, he knew he had lost the battle right there and then, and a groan rumbled in the back of his throat. "You owe me big time, Katie."
Her Look faded away, replaced by a wide grin that showed her dimples. "I know."
How was that possible? He wondered to himself as Kate took his hand and led him to the Presentation Room. Too many a woman had given him that Look in the past and future, including his wives, yet he'd easily stood his ground. What was it about Kate that made her the exception to the rule?
At that moment, Rule 52 was created: "If a woman gives you the Look, run the hell away." He wouldn't elaborate any further; every self-respecting man knew what the Look meant.
As they headed toward their destination, Gibbs tried to keep his eyes from wandering down Kate's shapely figure. That was much easier said than done, though, and he couldn't help but swallow as he took her in, particularly her backside. Although she was wearing her usual suit, it really fit her well, and he was probably fooling himself, but she looked a bit more...groomed? Her hair was combed neatly, her suit appeared to be ironed, and her vanilla scent was a bit stronger. He wondered if it was for the awards ceremony or for him. He immediately quashed the last part, turning his eyes away.
The Presentation Room was pretty crowded. Some agents were sitting in desks, and many were standing, clapping with varying enthusiasm. Jenny was standing in the front, a slightly-forced smile on her face as she gave an award to an agent. He saw DiNozzo, Ziva, Ducky, and Palmer a short distance away. Abby and McGee were probably somewhere in the room.
He slouched slightly, hoping the crowd would conceal him. It was futile: Jenny somehow honed on to him and she nearly did a double-take, her eyes widening. He gave her a faint smile, and Jenny composed herself, a smug smirk coming across her face.
"The next award to be presented is the Meritorious Civilian Service Award," Jenny's personal secretary Cynthia Sumner announced from the podium, causing his gut to clench in dread.
"Would Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs please step forward?" Jenny carefully pronounced his name, pretending to scan the crowd as she took the presentation box containing the medal from the secretary.
That woman was evil, Gibbs thought glumly. He felt a slight pressure on his hand, and turned to see Kate looking at him. She cocked her head toward the front and gave him a reassuring squeeze once again. His hand tingling slightly, he reluctantly pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the surprised looks on his team's faces.
Jenny's smile was genuine as she opened the presentation box, displaying the blue-and-gold medal in its glory. "Congratulations, Special Agent Gibbs!" Not trusting himself to speak, not with so many eyes on him, Gibbs merely nodded and took the award.
He was about to walk away when she grabbed his forearm. "Smile for the camera," she whispered as she posed next to him. He tried to pull away, but her unusually strong grip kept him in place. Clenching his jaw, he resigned himself to his fate, blinking away the flash spots in his eyes afterwards.
"You are evil. You know that, Agent Todd?" He whispered as soon he returned to Kate's side.
"I know," she whispered back, a proud grin on her face. At that point, he realized that it was the first time she went to the ceremony. The last one had taken place in December 2002, and the next one took place at around this time, nearly seven months after her death. A warm feeling welled in his chest as he gazed at the brunette, feeling glad that he went there—and that she was there to see it.
"In all the years I have known Jethro, this is certainly the first time he has ever turned up at an awards ceremony." Ducky's voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned his head to see him and Ziva heading his way, DiNozzo behind them.
"First time for everything, I guess," Gibbs said with a shrug.
Ducky, Ziva, and DiNozzo gave him matching smiles. "Indeed," the doctor said, patting him on the shoulder. "I suppose we will have another first on this fine day: congratulations on receiving the award. It is not too often that one gets honored with so prestigious an award."
With a wide smile, Ziva pulled him into a hug. "Congrats, Gibbs," she whispered in his ear, and he gave her a half-smile after she pulled away.
"Gibbs!" He looked over to see Abby weaving through the crowd, following by a smiling McGee. "You came, you actually came!" The forensic scientist exclaimed as she enveloped him in one of her infamous Hugs.
"So I did," he grunted as he patted her back.
Abby pulled back, still holding him at arm-length. "I'm so proud of you, even although you cost me twenty bucks! You've never been to the awards, so I thought I'd bet on you, counting on you not appearing as usual. And guess what? You show up!" Her pout then turned into a wide grin. "But who cares? You're here!" She pulled him back into the Hug once again.
"Ah, you know what they say: expect the unexpected."
"Rule 14," DiNozzo piped in before turning to Gibbs. "Congrats, boss. That's like, what, the sixth award? That's quite a record." The Special Agent then let out a soft sigh as he glanced at the award in Gibbs' hand. "It'd be nice to get one for myself, just this once…" he mumbled under his breath, referring to a bunch of awards that he kept locked in one of his desk drawers.
Gibbs heard him. "You can have it." He was about to give the award to DiNozzo, but Kate grabbed it. "I'll hold on to it," she said, holding the award protectively to her chest.
DiNozzo threw his hands up. "No fair! I had a speech prepared and all that!"
"Michael Douglas to Karl Malden? Who is that?" Ziva wondered aloud, reading a creased letter in her hands.
DiNozzo's eyes widened as he patted his slacks and snatched the paper away. "I see you can't keep your hands to yourself, Zee-vah," he sneered, ignoring Kate's sniggering. "McProbie must've rubbed off on you." McGee rolled his eyes.
"DiPot, meet DiKettle," Kate intoned, eliciting a chuckle from Gibbs.
"You never cease to surprise me, Jethro," Jenny said, walking up to them. The ceremony was over, and agents were clearing out of the room. "I half-expected you to skip this ceremony."
"I was gonna, but something came up." Gibbs gave Kate a light glare. For the first time, he noticed that Jenny's hair was cut short. It looked good on her, though he didn't say anything about it.
"Well, I guess things do change," the Director smirked, subconsciously twirling her hair. Gibbs glanced at Kate again; she was smiling innocently. "In fact, I expect you to be there the next time I'm handling you the award. It's the least you could do, considering what happened a couple of weeks ago." From what he had heard, SecNav Gordon Winters didn't take too light to the 'delay', all but accusing her and NCIS in general of a cover-up operation. The threat of an Inspector-General inspection, however, didn't materialize.
"Not if somebody ends up dead," Gibbs replied as he made to leave the room. Jenny quirked her eyebrows as she followed him, along with the others.
"Who?"
"Taylor Shane."
Jenny's eyebrows rose further. "The supermodel?"
"Yeah, her. It was the case I was working on before I was rudely interrupted." If Kate could stick her tongue out at him at this time without looking childish, she would definitely do it. "She was found hanging from an OCS security fence at Quantico this morning. Thought you'd like to hear about it before it hit the news."
"The press's gonna be all over this one," Jenny warned. Gibbs heard her unspoken words: go easy on them.
As if. "Yeah, I've got it covered. I'll keep you informed." He headed for the double doors.
"Pity you couldn't get a good head start," Kate teased.
Gibbs cocked his head, looking right into Kate's eyes. "Well, I'll get right on top of things," he leaned closer to her, emphasizing some of the words. He held back a smirk when the brunette reddened a bit.
"You are evil. You know that, Special Agent Gibbs?" she groused, and Gibbs smirked this time.
"I know."
He could do it, he thought as he walked toward the front gates that led into the Quantico base. He could. He'd faced off against a rogue Mossad double-agent, a serial killer with a tongue fetish, a Lebanese terrorist, the grown-up children of a deceased drug dealer, a deranged Lieutenant, a CEO with a deadly vendetta against the Navy, a terrorist group leader, and a Russian mercenary, among dozens of criminals and terrorists who targeted him and his team in some way. He could do this, he had to—no matter how much he didn't want to.
A glance at Kate at his side gave him renewed strength. Setting his jaw, Gibbs nodded to himself as he continued to put one foot in front of the other, feeling his entire body tensing up. His grip on his coffee cup tightened in tandem with his gut as he walked toward the great enemy that would test all of his skills and resolve.
The crowd of reporters.
With a near-deafening roar, the crowd swarmed him, nearly battering him with their microphones and camera recorders, and assailing him with questions that caused his eardrums to ring. "What is the official word on Taylor Shane's cause of death?" "What condition was her body in?" "Have you found the killer?" "Who do you think did it?" "Why was she hung upside-down?" "Is the Marine Corps trying to cover up the cause of her death?" "What about the other girls?" "How are they handling it?" "Are they in danger?" And so on and on. Whatever word he managed to get out midst this torture was quickly drowned out.
Then the enemy did the unthinkable, one that none of his other enemies had ever dared to do: a redheaded female reporter accidentally knocked his cup of coffee out of his hands with her microphone. He watched in silent horror and anguish as his beloved coffee splashed all over the ground.
"Interview's over," he said through gritted teeth, ignoring the reporter's frantic apologies as he ducked under the yellow police tape that held the crowd at bay. Ignoring the yells of the reporters, Gibbs curtly ordered the two Marines standing guard to secure the area.
"You gotta love the media," Kate muttered with an eye roll, falling into step next to him. Gibbs half-smirked at her, feeling some of his pain fade away.
"It's a wonder that our nation's still functioning," he replied. Kate let out a laugh.
In the distance, Ducky and Palmer were crouched over the body. Several Marines were standing guard nearby. Passing through the ajar barbed-wire gate, Gibbs circled around the body, taking in her features. Taylor Shane's eyes were wide open and her mouth slightly gape, her face frozen in a death mask.
"Wow, she really was beautiful," he heard Palmer say, sounding slightly awed.
Ducky glanced at his assistant. "She still is, Mr. Palmer."
"How long, Duck?" Gibbs asked, eyeing the dried gashes on Taylor's bloodstained military-style tank-top.
"Well, given that rigor mortis usually begins in the face, particularly the eyelids, jaw, and neck, between two to six hours after death, I estimate at least five hours," Ducky pointed around the face. "The muscles in the rest of her body, along with the major organs, have not yet begun the process. I daresay she died sometimes after three in the morning."
"How did she get that way?" Kate asked.
"Well, judging by these lacerations covering her thorax—" Ducky pointed toward the wounds. "—one could suppose that she impaled herself on these barbs. However, none of the wounds themselves were fatal, but we will know more when we get her back." He nodded at Palmer, who stood up and went over to the NCIS Emergency Response Van parked nearby.
Gibbs got onto a knee as he surveyed the body. "Who moved the body?"
"I did, sir." One of the Marines stepped forward, and Gibbs stood up to face him. He was a tall, slim man in his mid- to late twenties. His last name was printed on the front of his uniform. "Didn't think it was right, leaving Taylor out there like that. Don't want them to take pictures." As with the last time, Gibbs felt an affinity toward the man the way Marines felt toward other Marines, current or former.
"Yeah. Wouldn't help us out, though." He didn't blame him, though. He'd do the same thing if he was in the man's position.
Staff Sergeant Michael McMannis had the decency to look slightly chastised. "I'm aware of that sir, but I don't want the public to think these pictures were the reason the Corps agreed to support this show in the first place. It would make us look bad, you know."
The corners of Gibbs' lips curled a little. "At ease, Marine. Never said you didn't do the right thing. Do the producers know about this?"
"No, sir. We've been trying to contact Mr. Thomas Crawley. He doesn't know anything about this yet." The name Crawley brought back memories. A crooked TV producer, Crawley had something of a strange obsession toward his step-daughter, Taylor, and when he'd found out about her intentions to leave the show and marry her boyfriend, he reacted the way one would expect him to do.
Gibbs glanced at the section of the fence where Taylor's body had been found earlier. Some of the barbed wire was torn away, dangling in the air, and a piece of cloth was caught in it. Blood coated part of the wire, cloth, and the top of the gate as well. "How'd she get up there?"
"Looked like she was trying to climb it. But that doesn't make any sense, sir. If she wanted to leave the show, all she had to do was ask. This isn't a real boot camp, after all." Something passed on McMannis's face for an instant, but Gibbs didn't miss it.
He recognized that look. It was one he'd himself worn several times in the past-future.
Gibbs glanced at the others, who had arrived and were looking at the body, and went over to them. "McGee, photos," he addressed the probationary agent before turning to the two females. "Kate and Ziva, interview the models. And DiNozzo—"
"Boss, I'm pretty familiar with the show. Perhaps I should interview them." Gibbs had to smirk at the expression on the Special Agent's face. A glance at Kate indicated that she had a matching smirk on her face as well. Ziva was shaking her head slightly.
"Ziva, help McGee with the photos," Gibbs amended, knowing the Israeli's dislike of models. He turned to Kate. "Keep an eye on him, make sure he does his job." He gave her a meaningful look, and she nodded in understanding.
"My pleasure," the brunette said with a small smile on her face. DiNozzo, who had initially looked like he had been given the key to the Playboy Mansion, looked at Kate warily. Shaking his head at the Special Agent, Gibbs went over to McMannis. "I'm gonna need all the footage you have on this."
The Marine nodded. "You got it, sir. Post-production office is right over there." He gestured toward a one-story house nearby. The words, POST-PRODUCTION, was displayed on it, along with a TV poster. Entering the house, they made their way to the security room, where a young Marine immediately stood up from his desk and saluted.
McMannis returned the salute, and the other man sat down, removing his headpiece. Gibbs could see the name, Harvey, sewn on the man's front. "We need the footage that was shot last night, Corporal. One of the front gate."
"Between ten and five o'clock," Gibbs clarified.
Corporal Harvey nodded and went to work. A video-feed appeared on one of the monitors, showing the barbed-wire gate, starting at ten o'clock. Nothing of significance happened on the screen, so Harvey fast-forwarded it. Save for a couple of Marines walking past the gate at ten-forty, the gate grounds was pretty much deserted. Midnight passed, followed by one, then two. Finally, at around the 3:06 AM mark, someone ran toward the gate.
"Stop there," McMannis instructed. Harvey paused the feed, rewinded it a bit, and played it normally. A woman, Taylor, ran toward the gate from the right and began climbing it. From what he could see on the slightly-grainy screen, her body movements were sluggish, yet agitated, a sign that she was overdosed on PCP.
Glancing at McMannis, Gibbs noted that although the man's face was stoic, his eyes radiated pain and he felt sympathy toward the Marine. On the screen, Taylor continued to climb the gate, although she slipped a couple of times, and managed to reach the top. Gibbs couldn't help but wince as she grabbed the razor wire with her bare hands and tried to go over the top of the gate. However, at the last moment, her body seemed to convulse and she went limp, her legs and right arm getting caught in the wire and preventing her from hitting the ground. The time was 3:15 AM.
"Nobody saw her until the morning?" McMannis turned to a stunned Harvey.
"As far as I know, no," the Corporal replied.
"We'd like all your footage of the entire camp from last night. Send them over to NCIS," Gibbs instructed.
Harvey nodded. "Will do, sir."
As McMannis drilled Harvey about the night security detail, Gibbs left the house and went over to McGee and Ziva, who were finishing taking the photos.
"Um, I'm just about finished, boss," McGee said, holding the camera up.
"Good job," Gibbs smiled at the two agents. They had to stop looking surprised every time he praised them, but he supposed he couldn't fault them for that, given the way he had treated them the first time around. "I want you to go back to headquarters, make sure these reporters don't follow you back."
"Um, who'll be driving?" McGee asked, glancing at the van, where Palmer was loading a gurney containing the body into the back.
Gibbs was about to open his mouth when he thought about it. From his experience, especially earlier today, reporters were a particularly persistent bunch. They were basically vultures, keeping on hounding their victims until they got what they wanted. Ducky was a very careful driver, and so was McGee. They couldn't lose the reporters if their lives depended on it. Palmer was the opposite; he would easily get the team lost, and he didn't need that.
This left one person.
With a silent apology to the others, Gibbs turned to Ziva. "You drive." Ziva beamed, while McGee looked outright terrified. Palmer looked confused, having returned from the van.
"What am I missing here?"
"No bones broken, no major arteries severed." Ducky peered at several X-ray films that were displayed on the film illuminator viewer. They depicted the skull, hands, wrists, legs, feet, and chest area. "Which, thankfully, goes for Mr. Palmer, McGee, and I as well."
A still-shaken Palmer mumbled as if in agreement. Gibbs smirked.
"Take a look at the tox screen," Ducky picked up a clipboard containing the toxicology results from a side table and passed it on to Gibbs.
Much of the report was incomprehensible, but he recognized a couple of words there. "Her death was not caused by the barbed wire," the medical examiner continued. "If anything else, she appears to have overdosed on—"
"PCP. Also known as angel dust," Gibbs cut in, giving the clipboard back. Ducky nodded.
"Correct. Thanks to that overdose of PCP, that poor girl had a seizure, fell into a coma, and died, probably while on that fence. Quite a terrible way to go, might I say." Ducky went over to the slab where Taylor's body was lying.
"Accidental overdose, Duck?" Gibbs followed after Ducky, knowing what he was going to say next.
"I doubt it." Ducky shook his head as he peered into the victim's face. "She had enough amounts of PCP in her system to kill a small water buffalo. A small horse, if you like," he glanced at Gibbs. "I tire of saying it."
"Don't we all?"
Ducky gave a small chuckle. "Well, it appears that our young model might have committed suicide."
Nodding slowly, Gibbs mulled over how much to reveal to Ducky without making his future knowledge obvious. "'Might' being the key word," he finally said. Ducky lifted his face, his eyebrows raised. "You know something, Jethro?"
Gibbs almost chuckled at how Ducky's question might be interpreted. "How do you take PCP?"
Ducky's brow knitted. "Well, as with many recreational drugs, there are several ways to consume PCP. It may be ingested orally, smoked, insufflated, or injected." He glanced down at the victim. "There were no markings on her skin that indicates IV usage, so Taylor could not have injected the drug. There were no traces of PCP in her lungs and nasal cavity, so inhalation and smoking is out of the question. There were traces of PCP in her stomach, though, but I could find nothing that indicates the drug was in pill form." The doctor's frown deepened. "This is very interesting."
"A lot of things are. Are there any other way to take PCP?"
Ducky remained silent for a moment. "I suppose so. People can be pretty creative nowadays." He circled around the slab. "PCP can be easily transported, especially in liquid form, so one can spray it into food and consume it. That might explain the traces in the stomach. And of course, you can soak a cigarette in PCP and smoke it, but once again, there were no traces of the drug in the lungs."
"What about dipping?"
"Dipping?" Ducky looked confused for a moment.
"Um, that stuff that you, uh, put in your mouth..." Palmer spoke up hesitatingly, glancing at his superiors from his position by the slab.
Ducky's face lit up in realization. "Oh yes, dipping tobacco, also known as moist snuff. Given the proclivity of some people to put toxic substances in their mouths, that is a very strong possibility – especially in the modeling business." The medical examiner then shook his head. "I cannot believe I did not think of that."
"Happens to us sometimes," Gibbs remarked with a half-smile.
"I guess it may not have been a suicide, after all," Ducky remarked before leaning toward Taylor. "I guess boot camp was not so bad that it caused you to do it, my dear." Raising his head, Ducky continued: "I sent her clothes to Abigail. Hopefully, she might find something that proves that it was the snuff that done her in."
"That makes the two of us, Duck." Gibbs left the Autopsy room. As he waited for the elevator, he could hear Palmer's faint voice asking Ducky if NCIS investigated suicides. He blinked in surprise when the elevator opened to reveal Kate, who blinked at him in return.
"We gotta stop meeting like this, Katie." He stepped into the elevator.
"Funny, I could say the same for you, Jethro," she retorted.
Gibbs felt a half-smile come across his face at the way she'd used his name. "Weren't you heading to Autopsy?"
The brunette shook her head. "Well, I was going to check up on yo—them, but it seems that everything's all taken care of." He didn't miss her near-slip, and merely nodded at her.
"Sure, Katie." The elevator stopped at the next floor, and they headed to the Lab.
"Gibbs! You're on the news!" Abby whirled around, grabbed him, and dragged him over there. Sure enough, he saw himself on the overhead monitor, pushing through the crowd of reporters on the Zulu News Network (ZNN) channel. Gibbs let out a soft groan and looked at the Lab Rat. He never liked seeing himself, especially on TV. And besides, that reporter did a hatchet job on him. "Abs—"
"You're famous, G-Man! This is, like, the greatest day in my life! Oh, where's my pen and notepad? I'm sure I have it on me—nope, I left it somewhere! Why did I do that? I need to get organize—"
"Abs!" Gibbs interjected, grabbing her shoulders gently but firmly. "Ducky said you got something belonging to the victim."
Abby nodded, grabbing the remote and turning the monitor off. "I do, but I'm working on something else." She went over to the evidence table, and for the first time, he saw that it was full of boxes of assorted snack cakes, along with lab testing equipment. He recognized some of them (Twinkie and Hostess Cupcake), but the rest were unfamiliar.
"Didn't know you were a junk food junkie, Abs." The forensic scientist gave him a look.
"Well, you didn't get me a Caf-Pow!, so I have to manage," she half-joked. "But no. According to Ducky, there were no signs of intravenous drug use on the body, no traces of PCP in the lungs, and no traces of binders and chemicals commonly found in pills. Don't you find it a little strange?"
"Mhm," Gibbs nodded. Abby's eyes narrowed a little. "You know something, don't you?"
"Tell me what you know, I'll tell you mine."
Abby pointed at him. "You got it. PCP was found in her stomach, along with dextrose, ferrous sulfate, riboflavin—"
"Which means?" Kate furrowed her eyebrows.
"Chemicals found in these delectable pastries," Abby replied, gesturing over the snacks.
"Which one?" Gibbs asked.
"That's what I'm trying to find out. That's all I know so far, though. Well, that, and the fact I like cream filling."
"Me too," Kate said with a dimpled grin, looking right at Gibbs. He swallowed, feeling something stir inside him.
Abby looked between them with a knowing smirk, and this made him shift on his feet. "Well, now that I've told you what I know, it's your turn now!"
Gibbs took a breath. "Ducky found that Taylor consumed PCP in a different way."
"Such as?" Abby prompted. She and Kate were peering at him curiously.
"Snuff," Gibbs replied simply. Abby's eyes grew wide, and she looked like she wanted to headslap herself.
"So, that's why she had so much PCP in her body, but next to nothing about how she took it. It's so obvious...and here I was, thinking she OD'ed by Klowny Kake!" She picked up one of the yellow cakes and held it up. "Ducky should've told me that, though."
"It took him a while to figure that out," Gibbs stretched the truth a bit.
Abby nodded, chewing on the cake. "I'll get started on the clothes—after I finish the snack cakes, of course. You want some?"
Kate shook her head. "No, I'll pass." Gibbs turned to her with raised eyebrows. This was too good to pass up.
"Thought you liked cream filling, Katie," he quipped. Kate tried to contain her blush as she glared at him. "You're lucky it was Awards Day."
"I know." He gave her a smirk before nodding to Abby and leaving the Lab.
The Lab Rat continued to look at the door long after they left, her grin widening. "These two are so adorable. I wonder if I should do something about it?" She took another bite out of the Kake.
"You think Gibbs watched the news?" He heard DiNozzo ask as he headed for the bullpen.
"I am not sure, but I know the Director did," Ziva replied, leaning against McGee's desk. "He is probably in her office right now."
"You know, I think they were more than just partners back in the day," DiNozzo said thoughtfully.
Gibbs shook his head. It wasn't the first time DiNozzo had speculated on his relationship with Jenny, but at least he wasn't doing that to him and Kate this time. Stepping over to the Special Agent from behind, Gibbs smirked at the looks on Ziva and McGee's faces as they stared at the oblivious DiNozzo. Truth be told, he rather liked sneaking up on the Special Agent. It could get entertaining at times.
DiNozzo stiffened, having finally sensed his presence. "Hi boss, we were talking about Cagney & Lacey," he explained, not turning around.
Whap!
"Sure you were." Gibbs walked to his desk and took a seat, looking at his agents. "What've we got on her so far?"
"Taylor Shane checked into the Los Angeles Health Center in August 2002 and then again in May 2003," Ziva replied, walking over to the front of Gibbs' desk. "She had an eating disorder, according to her publicist."
DiNozzo stepped over to Ziva's side. "It was actually the combination of heroin, cocaine and—"
"PCP," Kate cut in, stepping next to Gibbs.
DiNozzo blinked at her. "That's right. How'd you know?"
"She knows what she knows." Gibbs glanced at the brunette. "Anything else?"
"Some of her friends gave interviews in the past few years," McGee said, standing up from his desk and walking over. "They blame her drug problems mostly on the boyfriend, Noah Keller." With a click from the remote, Keller's mugshot appeared on the plasma, and Gibbs got up from his desk to have a closer look.
It was Ziva's turn to speak. "He is the son of Marshall Keller—"
"—who owns half of Manhattan," DiNozzo cut in, ignoring the look the Israeli gave him. "His kids are loaded too."
"He was arrested for possession of illegal narcotics three times in the past five years," McGee said. "Twice for cocaine, once for PCP."
"I assume he got off lightly," Kate commented.
"I would be surprised if he didn't," Gibbs replied before turning to DiNozzo and McGee. "Find him." Although Keller was long dead by then, the evidence found near his body would go a long way in identifying Crawley as the perpetrator. Not for the first time, he wished he could arrest the guy right from the start, basically nip the bud. It would make things simpler.
"On it, boss," the two agents chorused at the same time before giving each other looks. Gibbs turned to Ziva, who was looking at him with a slightly tilted head. "Did that Crawley guy get back, Ziver?"
The Israeli nodded. "Yes, last night. I will go interview him." Gibbs had to smirk at the way she anticipated what he was going to say next.
"We'll go with you," Gibbs said with a glance at Kate before heading toward the elevator. The brunette smiled as she grabbed her gear and followed after him.
As the elevator began its descent, Gibbs felt a warm hand envelop his, and turned to see Kate looking at him. She smiled as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. With a lopsided smile, he returned it.
A/N: It's fun making up rules, lol.