It was twenty-four hours before the MCRT had anything in the way of answers. And, unfortunately, in that time nobody went home either. Ducky, Palmer, and Abby had all pulled all-nighters and Jethro and his field agents took power naps at their desk and ordered themselves some Chinese food at 0200 because it was the only place open at that time of day that did delivery.
He talked on the phone with his wife and father but there was a lot of waiting around for results to trickle in from the USAF, Abby, and Ducky.
Lieutenant Commander Melanie Burke, a Navy chaplain who'd just transferred to the Navy Yard, ended up joining them as she'd received orders to help with outreach to the accident victims' families in any way she could.
At the same time, McGee hung up his desk phone and stated that Navy Safety Center had looked at the plane's black box and it looked like the plane had been taken down by a flock of birds. No foul play, for once. Still, Jethro ordered McGee to verify before NCIS lost jurisdiction.
By that point, Abby had IDs on almost all the crew and deceased in the manifest. He wasn't fond of the 'almost' part but before he could say anything, a father showed up, convinced his daughter was on the plane.
Lieutenant Commander Burke turned to him. "That's my cue."
"Okay," he said. "You're up, Chaplain."
Putting an arm gently on her back, Jethro lead her up to the conference room.
"Corps said my girl was in an attack," the hurting father informed them. "At some sort of school. People were killed. Bodies were so bad, there was nothing left."
"Marines collected remains in Afghanistan," Jethro informed the man. "Still waiting for DNA to be confirmed here."
"No," Mr. Flores retorted. "You people are waiting for it. I know."
"Know what?" he asked.
"Her body was on that plane," the man replied. "A father knows. Don't tell me I don't."
He tried to reassure the man. "No one's arguing with you, Mr. Flores."
"We know what happened over there," the man stated, shaking his head. "They found her dog tags. I'm through waiting for you to get your paperwork in order." Jethro could easily understand that. Mr. Flores was, with good reason, angry and upset and looking to cast blame as any father would be. "I need to bury my girl."
"What's her name?" he asked softly.
"First Lieutenant Gabriela Flores," the man told him. "Remember that." Mr. Flores then rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a photo, placing it down on the table in front of both Jethro and Burke. "Here…." Jethro picked the photograph up. It was of a brunette girl sitting in a brown recliner, smiling widely. "I want you to... Her mom left when she was a kid. All I ever did was mess up. All Gabriela ever did was forgive me. Even after she got her own place, every Sunday night, she would come to my house and sit in that chair and watch my shows with me."
"A beautiful girl," the chaplain said.
"Chaplain, I'm not showing you what she looked like!" Mr. Flores said. "I'm telling you who she was. She put herself through college. She became a Marine officer. She was helping children in Afghanistan. And still, she found time to come... sit with me."
"Good kid," he stated.
Apparently, the inner turmoil running through Jethro's min showed on his face because Lieutenant Commander Burke glanced at him curiously when he made that comment. He knew how it felt to lose a daughter though or to not have any answers. He had felt it back in '91 and then again more recently at the hospital after Kelly's hit-and-run. It was too easy for him to put himself in the other father's shoes.
"The best," Mr. Flores confirmed.
"You know," the chaplain commented, "I bet that Agent Gibbs has what he needs, but I wouldn't mind hearing more about those Sundays... if you don't mind."
Jethro could've taken the out then, but he didn't. Something stopped him. Instead, he found himself speaking to the other man from both the heart and personal experience. "A daughter's a precious thing."
Mr. Flores' eyes widened slightly as he realized that Jethro was a father as well. Jethro, however, couldn't quite read the chaplain's expression.
After that, Jethro finally headed to the door, leaving the chaplain and hurting father to talk amongst themselves, quickly finding himself pulled into a meeting in Vance's office with the director and SecNav.
"Hey," he said as he opened the door. "Can it wait?"
"No," the director said curtly, gesturing for him to enter.
"Agent Gibbs," Secretary Jarvis said, "you heard nobody's at fault."
"I guess you caught a break," he said as he approached the table.
Secretary Jarvis clearly took offence. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He eyed the SecNav. "One less thing to worry about, Mr. Secretary, that's all."
"The sooner we get this plane off the evening news the better," the director said. "If there's nobody to blame, people lose interest."
"I need the confirmed IDs of the Marines who were transported," the SecNav said.
"Names are easy," he replied.
"But it's not over 'til the DNA matches," Vance finished.
He dipped his head. "We're workin' on that too."
"Work faster," Secretary Jarvis replied bluntly. "Use the A.I.U. team, the forensic lab in Dover. The Chairman and SecDef want closure."
He shot the man a pointed look. "We all want closure, Sir."
"NCIS has twenty-four hours to release the bodies," the SecNav ordered.
Vance tried to keep the peace. "I understand, Mr. Secretary. We'll make it happen."
Jethro headed towards the door, done with the conversation.
"Fact is," the SecNav said, "we've got ten bodies, no crime to investigate and families anxious to bury their dead. Let's close this, Gibbs, and move on."
Pissed that he was being ordered to fast-track the case, he walked out of the office. At least the SecNav had offered more resources and personnel before going and hanging a twenty-four-hour deadline around his neck and proceeding to pepper him with even more bullshit before. God, Jethro really hated politics.
Visiting a very sleep-deprived and hopped up on caffeine Abby down in her lab, Jethro ran into another problem. The forensic scientist had been unable to find any traces of First Lieutenant Gabriela Flores' DNA on the plane, leaving them all with one great big question. If Flores wasn't on the plan then where was she?
Jethro touched base with his team and left to grab himself some coffee before heading to the squad room. He was not surprised in the slightest that his field agents were all acting like overgrown children when he walked in.
"Ride a Ferris wheel naked?" McGee questioned in a mocking tone.
"I've already done that," DiNozzo stated. "I should cross that off." They were obviously talking about the bucket list his Senior Field Agent had made. "Do you have a pen?"
Jethro tossed one to DiNozzo who caught it easily. "Thank you, Boss."
He sat down at his desk, his team immediately jumping into the update.
"First Lieutenant Gabriela Flores," DiNozzo stated, grabbing the controller and pulling everything up on the plasma. "Reported possible 'killed in action' just off base in the Helmand Province of Afghanistan. Dog tags were at the scene, body wasn't."
"Graduated University of Maryland with a degree in journalism," Ziva then jumped in. "Completed O.C.S. at the age of twenty-three."
"Dug this up from Marines magazine she wrote for them as well," McGee informed him as the information up on the plasma there changed. "It's a photograph of her with the commandant of the Marine Corps."
"General Chuck Ellison," he said knowingly.
Ziva jumped back in without any preamble. "Lieutenant Flores was a public affairs officer at Marine Barracks Washington."
"What was her assignment overseas?" he inquired.
"Counterinsurgency," Ziva stated as she continued to fill Jethro in. "Flores volunteered for the Female Engagement Team last year."
His Senior Field Agent was feeling a little more like himself, apparently given the quip he made. "Quite a fetching FET."
Ziva then proceeded to explain something that Jethro already knew but doubted that McGee was familiar with. "Culture forbids outside men from interacting with Afghan women. FETs bridge the gap by attaching to male infantry units."
DiNozzo dipped his head slightly. "Put herself in the line of fire."
McGee chimed back in. "C.O. says Flores was blindsided in an attack on a girls' school she was helping rebuild, Insurgent RPGs."
"This backwards belief girls shouldn't be educated," Ziva said, "I have seen it consume people. I am sure the attack on this school was just brutal."
He turned to McGee. "McGee, get me satellite footage of the attack."
McGee nodded. "On the phone to the DOD, Boss."
He turned to his other two agents, issuing another set of orders. "DiNozzo, Ziva, MTAC now. Let's go talk to Flores' C.O."
With any luck, the commanding officer, Captain Craig Quincy, would be able to provide them with some more answers.
"Processing of the remains was clean," the captain said. "Mortuary Affairs gridded the area, documented site to flight. Everything we had, we shipped back, along with her personal effects."
"Could it be that none of Flores' remains made it through the RPG?" DiNozzo asked.
"Unlikely," Captain Quincy said. "Her tags survived, and those guys are trained not to miss a thing. Last thing we want is to turn a KIA into an MIA."
"Details," he requested.
"Nighttime ambush," the captain proceeded to explain. "Never saw it coming." Captain Quincy eyed them pointedly. "There was nothing questionable about Lieutenant Flores' actions. Just did what she was trained to do, maybe better."
"You're sure she was in the area when the RPGs were fired," DiNozzo asked.
"I saw her myself on the comm," the captain informed them. "I knew they were taking heavy fire at the school so I ordered her to evac back to base. Five minutes later, we lost contact. She never made it."
"You ordered her back because women are barred from combat?" Ziva asked.
"I have three FET Marines attached to my unit," Captain Quincy informed them. "And technically, women are excluded from direct combat." That's a hard line to hold during the chaos of combat. "But out here, the lines can get blurry."
"Any of your men have a problem with Flores being outside the wire?" he inquired.
"The opposite," Captain Quincy assured them without any hesitation. "They called her Public Affairs. But the idea of her just sitting behind a desk was laughable." Given how feisty her father was, Jethro could see it. "She held her own."
"And leading up to the incident," Ziva asked, "she displayed no unusual behaviour?"
"No, Ma'am. Flores lived for the Corps," the captain said earnestly. "She was so proud, so dedicated. I used to say I wish I had twenty of her. Now I wish I still had one. Until you guarantee she's not, I'm out here looking for a live Marine. My Marine."
He nodded. "Semper Fi, Captain."
A few hours later Jethro was down in his basement looking at First Lieutenant Flores' file and personal effects. She recorded information for a freelance article on a digital Dictaphone. Jethro listened to the lieutenant say that a group of young girls came to the school. Their families had been killed by insurgents. So, the girls stayed there and several locals were helping build an extension to the school.
Jethro listened as a young girl that the lieutenant identified as Mina spoke Pashtu in the background. She did a little mini-interview and Mina sang the alphabet in Pashtu.
Jethro continued to look at various reports and pictures of the lieutenants. One picture of First Lieutenant Flores, at a place that he recognized as Camp LeJeune, sent Jethro wandering into the past.
Jethro had just gone on liberty and was watching some Marines running in formation and singing a cadence call near the Camp LeJeune Physical Training Field.
A brunette woman who'd apparently opted to run the obstacle course instead of going out during liberty caught his attention.
"Matteson, is that right? Joan?" he asked. The woman ignored him, continuing to run the obstacle course intently. "Heard about you. You beat some of the guys' times on this thing, you know that?" Jethro decided to join her, doing some sit-ups beside her. "Yeah, Robertson for sure." He was honestly impressed. She was really good. "So is this your secret? Practicing during liberty?"
"Yes, this is my secret!" she said in jest. "As long as some chatty, got-it-so-easy fella doesn't come along and mess up my time, you know, works out pretty well." She got up and ran over to the pull-up bar. "Pretty soon, I'll be beating your time, too!"
"You must not know what my time is," Jethro called after Matteson, more than a little bit amused. "Jethro Gibbs. Look it up!"
Matteson smirked at him. "Yeah, right."
Jethro was pulled back into the present by the sound of his cellphone ringing.
Turning off the dictaphone for a moment, Jethro flipped open his cell and answered the rather unexpected phone call. "It's Gibbs."
"Special Agent Gibbs," a man said, "General Ellison would like to see you at 0700."
Well, that's interesting. "Yes, Sir."
"He'll be expecting you," the man said.
"0700," he readily agreed. "I'll be there."
The man replied instantly. "Thank you, Sir."
Once the call was over, Jethro stood there for a moment, a million things running through his head before he registered a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't realized that anyone had come downstairs.
He turned to his wife, giving her a small smile. "Hey."
"Who was that?" she asked curiously.
"The commandant," he explained. "Requested a meeting first thing."
Shannon nodded. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."
"Why don't you take a break and get some sleep?" she suggested. His wife kissed him on the cheek. "You're not gonna be good to anyone running on empty."
Jethro gave a curt nod, allowing himself to be led upstairs. He could use the rest.
