"It's gone on long enough, Jethro. Face it: you're no closer to catching this guy than you were two victims ago."
"Leon, come on!" – The leader of MCRT vehemently retorted. – "It's not true; Abby and McGee are working on a program that could maybe find some patterns in the three crime scene photos which, in turn, would help us predict his next move! Then we'll catch this son of a bitch in act next time he tries something!"
The director of NCIS tiredly rubbed his nose, wishing with all his might he didn't have to say it… but, like always, even now he had to be the bearer of bad news. And, also like always, he dreaded the effect it would have on his most stubborn agent and his equally headstrong team.
"Jethro… Even you have to understand. We're way past the stage where 'could' and 'would' cuts it. Three decorated ex-marines have been brutally murdered and mutilated and who knows how many more are in danger. We need results. Otherwise… Well, I don't even want to think of what would happen otherwise!" – Maybe he should retire, Leon Vance thought… A nice vacation on a beach with his beautiful wife and wonderful kids was sounding more and more inviting as he watched his agent go through all the stages preceding a huge explosion of fury. He held up his hands to stop the outrage he knew was coming. – "I'm sorry." – And he really was. For himself. – "You need help." – He ruled eventually.
The seething team leader narrowed his eyes, giving off the impression of a very angry lion ready to attack.
"And just what kind of 'help' do you have in mind?"
"The FB-"
"NO!"
"Jet-"
"NO!"
The two man looked deep into each other's eyes, each trying to hold his own against the other, projecting as much authority and strength as possible. It wasn't working very well with the director sitting behind his desk while his agent was standing tall in front of him, so he rose to his feet as well, all the while never even blinking.
Vance felt his eyes water and wondered how long this silent staring contest could go on before he'd lose the battle. For he was sure Leroy Jethro Gibbs would never give up, even if it meant damaging his eyesight for good.
But he was the director, damn it! It was him giving orders and Gibbs following, not the other way around! Well, in theory, that is…
They were saved by his secretary announcing over the speaker that his visitor had arrived, and Vance had a difficult time not to sigh in relief too noticeably as he quickly turned to press the button to answer.
"One moment, July."
"Yes, sir."
"So…" – He took a deep breath. – "The FBI. YES, Jethro, the FBI will join us on this and you and your team WILL fully cooperate with them. That means sharing evidence, giving them access to our resources and not threatening to kill any of them."
"I will NOT work with Fornell!"
"Of course not." – Leon agreed and he was satisfied to note he'd finally had the other's full attention since he'd been actually caught off guard for once in life.
Feeling like he deserved a medal or something, the director smiled somewhat evilly and instructed his secretary to send the visitor in.
The raven-haired and dark-eyed man who confidently entered the room and took a seat without being invited to do so was younger than them – probably around 40 by the looks of him – and wore an impeccable suit with the perfectly matching tie wound so tightly around his neck that the mere sight of it made Leon flinch. How was this agent even breathing? And it wasn't just the tie, it was also his strict and somber expression that caught the director's attention: he was sure this man hadn't smiled once in his entire life. He also seemed to be impatient to find out why he'd been summoned here from Quantico on such a short notice.
Leon cleared his throat and made the introductions.
"SSA Leroy Jethro Gibbs, head of our Major Case Response Team – the ones who need your help with the case I've told your liaison about." – He said, motioning toward his agent before turning to the newcomer who was nodding curtly as a greeting, not bothered by the fact that it wasn't returned. – "SSA Aaron Hotchner, unit chief at the FBI."
Gibbs gave his soon-to-be-colleague a once-over in a somewhat dismissive manner.
"And what unit would that be?" – He inquired, clearly not really caring one way or another; he had already decided to hate the entire situation and nothing was going to change that, not even if the man was the director of FBI himself.
Aaron Hotchner, to his credit, didn't snap at the rude question even though he didn't look any happier about the notion of working with NCIS than his temporary teammate. Not that Leon could imagine him looking happy about anything at all, mind you.
"The BAU." – Not seeing any comprehension on the NCIS team leader's face, he added with some resignation. – "Stands for the Behavioral Analysis Unit." – Still not having the desired effect, he sighed tiredly. – "We will tell you who you're looking for and how you're going to catch them." – Nothing. – "We're profilers." – He clarified.
Vance, on the other hand, didn't need to be a profiler to feel the hatred projected toward his person from Gibbs at that revelation and he silently promised himself to acquire some good travel magazines as soon as possible and find a place far away not only from D.C. but the United States altogether, preferably at the other side of the Globe.
His horrified agent couldn't hold his temper in check anymore and exploded so suddenly and loudly that even the bird sitting on a nearby tree in front of the half-open office window flew away hurriedly. Leon couldn't blame it; as a matter of fact: he wished he could do the same.
"You want me to work with a bunch of shrinks!?"