Their conversation Tuesday night could've gone smoother, but they'd managed to work it out; after he apologized to his father-in-law that was. Mac was a pretty mellow guy, so that conversation wasn't really a big deal.
And Wednesday. they managed to break the Teichroeb case, arresting Lance Corporal Hall that afternoon. A petty feud that had gone too far.
After work, he and Shannon went out for dinner, something they'd both sort of needed after the night before. Some time focused on just them.
"I can't believe you had him do that!" she commented with a chuckle. "Poor Tim."
"Poor Tim nothing," Jethro said with a grin as the pair discussed something that had happened a few years back with Deputy Secretary of State Anna Elliot. "That woman had it coming and everyone wanted to say it. McGee just got the honour."
She rolled her eyes, still clearly amused. "You, Jethro, are a bad influence."
He quirked an eyebrow in reply. "Hardly, Shan. And I still recall a certain redhead that, back in 1977, decided it would be a spectacular idea to go and -"
"Oh my God, Gibbs!" she exclaimed with a chuckle, throwing a hand over his mouth. "I can't believe you remember that!"
He smirked. "And you were saying?"
Shannon proceeded to lean across the table slightly with a smirk of her own. "I've got just one word for you, Tiger." Jethro took a sip of his drink. "Jacksonville."
He coughed on his drink, trying not to laugh. "So that's how it's going to be then?"
She raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Uh-huh. You surprised?"
He shook his head, chuckling softly.
Dinner was really nice, but they came home to a rather unwelcome surprise. Their dog Bailey was at the window, barking loudly, and it didn't take long to find out why.
Shannon had been, understandably, concerned when she spotted the strange man that was standing outside their house and Jethro was even less pleased by just who it was that was standing there; Damon Werth.
Corporal Werth, one of the last people that Jethro ever expected to find standing in his driveway, was a former Marine who suffered from steroid-induced psychoses and who had found himself in some rather serious trouble about three years prior. The man was violent and completely unstable.
His wife leaned into him, clearly nervous. "Jethro."
"It's fine," Jethro said softly, trying to reassure her. He instantaneously moved to take out his SIG with his left hand, more than a little irritated that he still had to wear the damn arm sling for his shoulder. He aimed it at Werth. "What do you want, Damon?" Jethro decided to make it clear to his wife that he knew the man, not really sure how much that would actually help her, but it was something.
"I need your help," the younger man stated. "Can we maybe go somewhere a bit more private? I don't want anyone to see us talking."
"You're paranoid," he retorted, not lowering his gun.
"I'm clean," Werth claimed. "I'm off the juice."
"Who do you think's watching you?" he inquired.
"Guy named Aaron Szwed," Werth explained. "He's got a trucking company. Friend of mine from the Corps has been doing work for him. Questionable work"
Jethro lowered his gun, placing it back into his holster. "Go on."
Werth glanced around. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"
He glanced at his wife and back at Werth. "Backyard. Come on."
As they made their way to the backyard, Shannon leaned in. "Who is he?"
"A former Marine who made some really stupid decisions," he explained. "Werth is an addict. He's not a bad guy but not all there either."
"Ah," she said, noticeably relaxing.
After a moment the three of them stopped walking and Werth pulled an old photo out of his pocket, showing it to Jethro. "This is... This is Heatherton and me. After we got shipped stateside. Wife and kid left him. He had some trouble making the transition back to civilian."
He looked at Werth incredulously. "Unlike you?"
"I didn't carry him out of the desert so he could wind up dead in some alley tonight, the younger man immediately fired back. "He came by for a drink. Partied. He was upset. He wanted to tell me something about the last job, and I..."
Jethro had a feeling he already knew but asked anyway. "You what?"
Werth sighed. "I blacked out again."
"Is your head straight?" he inquired.
Werth shook his head. "I only had a couple of beers, I swear."
He eyed Werth skeptically. "Only had a couple you remember."
The younger man was clearly getting frustrated. "He's still laying out there, Gunny."
He sighed, eyeing his wife. "You mind, Shan?"
She shook her head in the negative. "No. Go, Babe. Figure whatever this is out."
Jethro nodded, pulling his cellphone out. "Hey, McGee. Day's not over."
Explaining the situation to the younger agent, he headed inside, pouring himself and Shannon some coffee and shoving a glass of water at Werth.
It didn't take the younger agent long to arrive, and, giving his wife a quick kiss, Jethro said goodbye and hopped into his younger agent's car.
Just after midnight, McGee, Jethro and Werth pulled into the alley-turned-crime-scene.
Getting out of the younger agent's car, Jethro and McGee took out their flashlights and started walking down and checking out the dark alley, leaving Werth in the car.
"Well," McGee said, "it's, uh... It's the District. So, technically, it's Metro's jurisdiction. But we can take it... if we find a reason."
"Cooperating witness," he stated simply.
"Heatherton's not active service," McGee replied. "Hasn't been since he was wounded in Iraq." Jethro gave McGee a look. "I'll call Metro. If they can kick it to the Bureau's Violent Crimes Task Force, they can hand it off to us." They both knew Tobias would give Jethro the case with little issue.
Jethro nodded, shinning the flashlight down on the body so that they could see what they were dealing with. So far, Werth seemed to be telling him the honest truth about his buddy Nick Heatherton. Still, he wanted to verify everything he was told. "Get, uh, Ziva and DiNozzo out of bed."
"What?" McGee asked.
"Wake 'em up," he reiterated.
"Oh, oh, oh. Right, um..." McGee said. "Get them out of bed, because it's the middle
of the night and they're asleep."
"Yes," he confirmed, slightly exasperated.
"Individual beds," McGee continued, clearly exhausted. "Get them out of individual beds. I was confused. I thought we were talking..."
"Need some sleep yourself, do you, McGee?" he pressed, heading back towards the younger man's vehicle.
"Uh, no!" McGee lied.
Jethro shined the flashlight on him. "You got bags under your eyes."
McGee squinted. "It's a look that I'm going for."
Rolling his eyes, Jethro turned around and resumed walking back to the car.
"Believe me now?" Werth asked.
"What was Heatherton doing for Szwed?" he questioned.
"Driving a truck," the younger Marine explained. "Like, serious driving. Last run was cross-country and back in less than a week. He... He said he messed up, but he had to. Something about being a human first. Heatherton was recruiting me for the next run. And, um... Szwed offered it to me."
"When?" he demanded.
"Before I came to see you," the younger Marine informed him. "I went to see Szwed at his warehouse out in Manassas."
The man then went on to explain to Jethro that he had made a deal for some two-man job the next day and had told Szwed that he had a partner in mind.
He gave Werth a pointed look. "This is a murder investigation."
Werth eyed Jethro, clearly not intending to back down. "Szwed's body man Lucas... he carries a jackknife. I think they killed him."
He took a step forward. "You're not getting involved."
"What do I tell his wife, Gibbs?" the man said, taking a step forward as well. "What do I tell his little girl?"
"I'll tell you," he barked. "You're just a witness here. And you're not a very good one."
"No," Werth immediately shot back. "I'm the guy taking a dead man's place behind the wheel. You need me, Gibbs."
Jethro sighed. They were in for a really long night.
