The rest of Monday evening went much better, thankfully, and Jethro was satisfied that they'd been able to put their little dispute behind them.
The following morning, he woke up a bit early, as did Shannon, so the pair had a few minutes to just relax over some breakfast and hot coffee before they both had to get ready for work and begin their day.
They'd finished breakfast and Jethro had just gone to grab another cup of coffee. His wife was seated at the kitchen table, looking at the newspaper, reading intently.
Swallowing his swig of coffee, he got her attention. "Anything interesting?"
His wife slid the newspaper over to him. "Well, it's something."
Picking up the paper Shannon hd passed him, Jethro started reading the article.
D.C To Forgo Breathalyzer Testing For Time Being
It will probably be four months before the District has accurate breathalyzer testing, acting Attorney General Irvin B. Nathan said Monday as he confronted the most recent turmoil over the city's drunken-driving enforcement.
In the meantime, officers and prosecutors will rely on urine tests in addition to field sobriety tests, Nathan said. The urine tests are much more expensive, costing about $75 each, compared with less than $10 for a breath test.
D.C. police test about 123 suspected drunk drivers a month, department records show. A federal highway grant will cover the extra cost of urine testing.
He gave a little hum and pushed the paper back to her, not bothering to finish the rest of the article which hadn't come as much of a surprise. "Anything else?"
She snorted. "Not unless you're interested in the Black Swan ballet."
He shook his head. "Nah, I'll leave that to Ducky."
Shannon snickered. "Yeah, I kinda figured." His wife then gestured to the newspaper in front of her. "There's an article on the recent Washington Capitals game but -" She gave a little shrug of the shoulders.
Jethro hummed in reply. He was more of a football guy and couldn't really be bothered with hockey. He enjoyed football and baseball though, admittedly preferring to actually play baseball than to watch it.
"If you were on a desert island, but your needs for food and shelter were totally taken care of, what one luxury item would you wish for?" she asked.
"Easy," he said with a smirk. "Rule #9: Never go anywhere without a knife." He could make most other things he might want and it would provide protection.
Shannon chuckled. "Always so practical, Gunny."
"Oorah," he said, voice laced with mirth. "What would you want?"
She gave him a playful smile. "You."
He raised an eyebrow.
Shannon stole a couple sips of his coffee before finally answering him. "Rule #7: Avoid overanalyzing."
"Meaning?" he asked, both curious and amused.
"You'd bring that damn knife of yours," she replied cheekily. "I'd kill two birds with one stone. I'd have a knife and a big strong Marine to keep me company."
He rolled his eyes, chuckling. His wife could be a bit of a dork, but he loved her.
They continued to relax at the kitchen table for a few minutes, but then he had to take off. Jethro had to head out a bit earlier than usual so he could make it to his standing appointment first thing at Frankie's Crew Cuts for a haircut before he went to work.
Once he arrived at the Navy Yard, he headed up to the main floor and had a quick chat with the head of dispatch. He then made his way across the main floor to the squad room. Ziva wasn't there, having asked for the morning off a couple of days before as she had a dentist appointment she needed to make, but both DiNozzo and McGee were talking away at their desks with an older man.
The elderly gentleman looked to be in his mid or late seventies, approximately 5ft7 if he had to hazard a guess, had an average build, and had dark grey hair and chocolate brown eyes. He couldn't quite place the man, but something about the guy genuinely seemed familiar to him somehow.
Both the older man and his NCIS escort, a young brunet agent who'd been working for the cyber division for a few years now, walked by Jethro, who glanced back briefly as he continued walking to his desk. "Friend of yours, Tim?"
McGee gave a little shrug. "He says he knows Ducky."
"Looks familiar," he stated, still trying to figure out just why that was. "Come on! Grab your gear! Don't want to miss the school bus."
"Class trip, Boss?" DiNozzo inquired.
"Got a dead petty officer in a high school stairwell," he explained, grabbing his badge, gun, and black blazer as he did so. "Janitor found him this morning."
DiNozzo immediately started singing "The wheels on the bus…" as they all started to make their way over to the elevator, Jethro joining in on the silliness as well.
At the crime scene, the victim was in rough shape even for a corpse. McGee picked out a broken nose and a shattered jaw while fingerprinting the petty officer for an I.D.
He turned to McGee. "Got an I.D.?"
"Petty Officer First Class Simon Craig," McGee informed them. "Twenty-seven. Did two tours overseas, then requested a transfer back to the States. Been working out of the Naval Recruiting Station in Alexandria ever since."
"Musty stench of high school stairwells," DiNozzo quipped. "Copped my first feel in a stairwell very much like this. Alice Kratzenstein."
He gave the younger agent a pointed look. "Hey, Tony."
DiNozzo immediately refocused. "Anyway," the younger agent said as he started going through their victim's wallet. "I.D. and cards are gone. No cash."
He dipped his head slightly. "Robbery."
"Gone bad, maybe," DiNozzo said. "Navy ring's still on his finger."
"His watch too." He eyed his Senior Field Agent. "Check with the school for kids with discipline problems. Find out who he reported to. Ducky will give us a time of death."
McGee shot him a questioning look. "Where is Ducky?"
Before Jethro could answer that, all their attention was pulled to someone else who was on the top of the stairs. The elderly gentleman from earlier. "Dr. Mallard is... is right behind me." The man glanced back and then forward again. "At least he was." The man had trouble walking down the stairs and started to complain. "Why do people always get killed in the least... accessible places?"
Jethro really couldn't argue with that.
"I once found a ship's cook all chopped up and left in a deep fryer," the older man said, walking rather slowly and deliberately. "The sailors nibbled on him and the... and the calamari for days. Uh, could someone please help me down the steps?" Jethro, who had already intended to help, started to assist the elderly gentleman. "My knees aren't what they used to be."
"Magnus, right?" Jethro said. He'd managed to finally piece together how he'd met the older man. They'd met in 1980 when Jethro had his run-in with Ringo Zucado. He was the agency's former medical examiner, Dr. Walter Magnus.
"Right," the man confirmed. "And you're, you're Gibbs. I remember you."
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I remember you, too." He eyed the older man. "Doc, you can take a look, but you can't stay here. It's a crime scene." Jethro really didn't need the extra hands running around an active crime scene.
The man eyed him. "Oh, sure I can."
"No," he said, not unkindly, "you can't."
"Well," Magnus countered, "I'm… I'm not gonna bother you." Jethro really didn't want to fight with the older gentleman but Jethro couldn't seem to figure out why he was even there. "I'm not gonna touch the... the merchandise. I'm just here as a... as an observer today."
"I hope so," he said. "You're retired, Doc."
"I'm sorry," DiNozzo asked. "Retired from what?"
He'd thought that would've been obvious. "NCIS."
Finally, Ducky arrived and they were finally able to finish processing the scene. It was definitely an experience with Dr. Magnus underfoot.
In the squad room, backgrounding continued. Ziva had finally arrived and they learned that PFC Craig had dead parents and was raised by his sister Nina who was on her way to D.C. DiNozzo also reported that Chief Petty Officer Jerome Carr, PFC Craig's CO, had expressed full cooperation.
Jethro then decided they should run down angry rejected Navy applicants. He'd seen that particular M.O before. A recruiter case that he'd caught back in 2004 immediately came to mind. "Check for rejected applicants."
"Rejects R us, Boss!" DiNozzo quipped.
Just then, Vance got his attention from the stairs leading to the director's office. The man was limping and carrying a cane but was clearly still intending to jump back in. "Gibbs! I need a moment."
Not at all surprised by the summons now that he knew that Vance was in the building, Jethro headed up to the office.
"How are you holding up, Leon?" he asked earnestly.
"How do you think?" the man asked more than a little bit sarcastically. "I'm on a strict diet of paperwork and painkillers."
"I'm glad to have you back," he said as he watched Vance take a seat.
"I'm glad to be back," the director said, "considering the alternative." Vance eyed him. "There are we on that recruiter case?"
"We're just getting started," he said.
"It's a hell of a lot of catching up to do, Gibbs." Vance gestured to the stack of files on his desk. "Did you sign anything, did you read anything in my absence?"
Jethro merely raised an eyebrow in response. He'd done a lot of work but it did look as though he'd just let all of the paperwork pile up. Purposefully. Part of his intention was to prevent Vance from feeling useless, giving the injured man something to do besides just sitting there at his desk. Pure gunny motivation.
Vance gave him a pointed look. "It comes with the job."
"Better you than me," he countered.
"No doubt I'm appreciative," Vance said, clearly figuring out just why Jethro did what he did, "but since I got hurt, we've been on SecNav's radar, and I want to prove that recent events haven't influenced things around here."
"It's gonna take you a while to get on track, Leon," he gently reminded the other man. "You're lucky to be alive."
The director eyed him. "You don't think I know that?"
"No," he said, "I do think you know it. I think you also feel responsible."
"Things needed to be dealt with," Vance asserted.
"Alright then," he fired back. "Suck it up. Move on."
Vance smiled slightly. "Get back to work, Agent Gibbs."
He immediately turned towards the door. "You too... Director Vance."
It was going to take some time for Vance to get back to a hundred percent, but he was confident the man was going to be okay. He also couldn't help but grin at the fact that he officially wasn't acting director anymore. Man, he hated that damn job. Thank God, Vance was finally back at work.
