Langston groaned softly, rubbing her leg, as she leaned against the back of the van. "You an' me, hoss, we gotta work on our communication thing, 'specially if th' boss keeps stickin' us t'gether like this," she said to Torres, gesturing at him.
"The gym, you and me, next time. I know you can punch, but I want to know what else you can do," Torres huffed.
"And I want a lawyer!" Tyler Mitchem yelled as he was unceremoniously stuffed in the back of a waiting police car by two local police officers, who had come when Langston had put out the call to Dispatch, requesting immediate assistance.
"Yeah, yeah, we know! We know! So exercise your first right and shut up!" Torres snapped.
"What's his problem?" one of the cops, a small woman with dark hair pulled back in a bun, asked, coming up to them.
"Suspected dealer connected to a pharmacy we're investigating for misappropriation of certain drugs," Torres explained. "I'm undercover as one of the couriers, because the original driver is currently at NCIS, facing drug-related charges. She's with me as my backup in case something like this happened."
"Does she need an ambulance?" the second cop asked, watching Langston with concern. He was tall, with dark blonde hair cut close, and looked like he worked out.
"I'm good," Langston said. "Stupid chicken shit-fer-brains kicked me in th' leg, which jest happens t' be th' same leg tha' took a round not even two weeks ago."
"Through and through?" the first cop asked, wincing in sympathy.
Langston shook her head. "Bounce from a spray-an'-pray. Didn' nick nothin' major, but holy hell did it hurt. An' it was a danged micro-Uzi."
"Oh I hate those things," the second cop grumbled.
"Plus, he caught her in the face with an elbow," Torres said, causing the two cops to wince in sympathy again.
A black government car slid to a stop and before the cops, understandably, could withdraw their weapons, Torres stopped them.
"Looks like our boss, and yup. Special Agent Gibbs," Torres said. "And he's pissed."
"What the hell happened?" Gibbs demanded, coming up to them, looking as mad as hell, having gotten the call as he was on his way to the car wash.
"Meet Tyler Mitchem," Torres said, pointing to the cruiser, where the suspect sat, glaring at them. "He confronted me earlier, asking where Greene was, and I played the substitute courier on the job bit. Just as we were about to go meet you, he pulls up behind me and pulls a gun. Langston came up behind him, and covered him. Unfortunately, while she was cuffing him, he suddenly decided to fight. Good thing is, she called it in just before, just in case, which is why these guys are here."
"What do we know about him?" Gibbs asked, going over to Langston, concern in his eyes.
"When I ran him, I found out he's got priors a mile long, mostly for drug and assault charges, plus an active warrant for his arrest, for, no surprise, more drug-related charges," the second cop said. "He's six kinds of trouble and if you guys can get him off the streets for a while, I'll be a happy camper."
"Get him to NCIS, at the Yard, and we'll do what we can," Gibbs said. "He fights, taze his ass."
"Gladly," the second cop said. "On one condition; I want that lady's number."
Torres smirked under his mask and Langston just rolled her eyes, but gave the cop one of her new business cards.
"You okay?" Gibbs asked her.
"Really wishing m' camper had a proper bathtub right now," Langston said in a low voice. "As it is, I need t' check my ice pack supply, an' talk t' Bishop about coverin' up facial bruises."
"Get in the car. When we get back to NCIS, go use the staff locker room shower; it has a seat inside the shower, and unlimited hot water. I got this guy," Gibbs said.
Not even an hour later, Gibbs was running. Again.
Mitchem had been escorted to NCIS where, predictably, he had fought again. This had resulted in him not being tasered but, rather, being dog piled by several cranky federal agents. After Harper Dearing had attacked NCIS, there had been a sudden surge of agents interested in REACT training, otherwise known as Regional Enforcement Action Capabilities Team, and those that didn't make the team still received extra training in suspect take downs. What happened before was not going to happen again.
Agent Monroe had been alerted of the arrest and gleefully pounced on Mitchem, especially when he learned of the active warrant.
"Right now, as it stands, your warrant, plus the various resisting arrests charges, and assaulting a federal agent -"
"Two," Gibbs said, holding up his fingers. "Two federal agents."
"Two federal agents? Wow," Monroe said, eyes wide. "Just, wow."
"And one of them's badly hurt because of him," Gibbs said. "So I'm sure you can understand if I'm not exactly in a very good mood right now."
"Fair enough," Monroe said, holding up his hands. "Fair enough." He smiled at Mitchem, who only glared at them.
"I want a lawyer," he said.
"Fine. You're going to need it, because as it stands, you have an active warrant for your arrest," Monroe said, flipping through the file in front of him, "and with the additional charges both myself and NCIS will be piling on top of you, boy, you're looking at some pretty serious time. We'll get the rest of your crew, one way or another, and this time, not only are you going down, you'll be staying down."
Mitchem yawned. "You know what they say about snitches." He smiled coldly.
"And you know what we say? Snitches get protection. Dealers get dunked," Monroe said.
He stood up, along with Gibbs. "Have a nice day."
Outside the interrogation room, where two agents stood guard, Gibbs and Monroe met up with McGee.
"We have a lead on Shane Stevens," McGee said. "He's renting a basement office out of an old office building near here, and the floor plans say it's big enough for him to use as a makeshift apartment. The FBI Cyber Crimes division really wants this guy, so I was able to cut a deal with them. We help them locate him, they help us crack him."
"What do they have that we don't?" Monroe asked.
"A dedicated cyber crimes specialist unit that is so up to date that I feel old," McGee said, not looking happy about that.
"Get him," Gibbs said.
"Going," McGee said, heading down the hall. He would grab the rest of the team, except Langston, who had been given orders from Gibbs to stay put for the rest of the day, as it turned out Mitchem's elbow to Langston's face had given her a rather nasty bruise on her cheekbone and a nasty headache. A visit to Ducky had assured Gibbs the junior agent would be okay, provided she gave herself the proper treatment, such as painkillers and rest. Barring that, a hot cup of herbal tea and an ice pack, which she would need for her leg, anyway.
"Mitchem?" Gibbs asked.
"Right now, thanks to you guys, we have enough on him to keep him in our hands for quite a while," Monroe admitted. "And since he was trying to go after the courier guy, who, by the way, is screaming loudly once we told him a few hard facts, we may have more leverage, especially if we can connect the two. Did your guys find those burner phones?"
"They're with Kasie now," Gibbs said. "We'll keep you posted."
He was about to head for his desk when his phone chimed, signaling an incoming message. It was from Langston.
"Locker room 911"
Gibbs went running.
He burst into the locker room, only to be met with the deafening sound of silence and a bad feeling that something was very, very wrong. A smell caught his nose; fresh paint. What the hell?
"Langston!"
A second later, his phone chimed. It was Langston.
"Showers."
Steam was coming from one of the showers, but beyond the sound of the shower running, there was nothing. Gibbs could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
"Gibbs?" came Langston's voice, low and soft.
He turned around, and found Langston emerging from another shower, wearing only a towel, her hair damp and down, her gun at the ready, clearly ready for a fight.
He went to her, concerned.
"Is there anyone else here?" she demanded softly.
"I didn't see anyone," he admitted. There was something in her eyes; Langston was scared, really scared. Something had happened.
"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?" she demanded.
"No, but I didn't check," he said. "Turn off the shower and wait here."
Langston nodded, and while Gibbs checked the rest of the locker room, finding it empty, Langston turned off the shower and quickly got dressed.
When he rejoined her, she was dressed, but had not done up her shirt, revealing a dark blue camisole with what he suspected was a built-in bra; one of his ex-girlfriends wore them often. He absently noted that her left collar bone was slightly misshapen; had it been broken at one point?
"We're clear, but I found something," he said, gesturing for her to follow him.
She followed him to the lockers, and her eyes went wide. Go back to Texas, shower slut! were the words spray painted across several lockers in bright yellow spray paint.
"Any idea what this means?" Gibbs asked, seeing the growing horror on Langston's face. "Hey. Hey. What's going on? Don't look at that, look at me. Look at me," he demanded softly, turning her away from the lockers, so her back was to it. "Talk to me. Come on, talk to me. What do those words mean to you?"
She looked at him, and her mouth moved, and for a moment she struggled to get the words out. As she did, tears started sliding down her face.
"Shower slut was what my attacker called me in th' days leading up t' his court appearance," Langston finally admitted, swallowing hard. "So did his girlfriend an' the girl's ma. It's why I keep th' bathroom door locked when I'm havin' a shower, 'cept I can't do it here. So I keep my gun close." She pointed to the ugly words. "Tha' was supposed t' be buried."
"Someone dug it up. When did it happen?"
She looked away. "Jest after I joined th' wardens. Th' girlfriend's ma was my ma's cousin's girlfriend at th' time, so uncomfortable mess alla round. I was stayin' wit' 'im during my early days. Real good feller."
"Did the cousin believe you?" he demanded.
She nodded. "You'll have t' excuse me ifin I don't really wanna talk about it any further."
"Name." Langston didn't answer him, refusing to look at him. "His name."
"Tyler. Tyler Hugh Mccaffery. He did time, then was run outta town by those who knew. Don' know, don' care."
Gibbs nodded. "Come here."
And he hugged her tightly. She resisted, at first, then buried her head in his shoulder like a little girl being comforted by her father. And Gibbs couldn't help but wonder. "I'm going to make some calls and get this taken care of. McGee and the others found Shane Stevens, and both Greene and Mitchem are facing hard time with the DEA. We've just about got this case wrapped up. Go see Kasie and find out how she's making out with Mitchem's phones, see if there's anything we can use." Langston nodded, wiping her eyes as she straightened up. "Hey. You did nothing wrong."
"How do you know?" she asked, finally looking at him, letting him see some of the shadows in her.
He smiled gently. "I know. Go."
Langston nodded and headed back to the showers to grab her bag of shower gear to comb her hair out. Kasie was pretty good with braiding hair; maybe she could do something, like that waterfall braid. As she gathered up her stuff and put her gun back in the holster, she mentally gathered herself back up. The past was the past. Yes, someone knew, but unless they could actually find Tyler, all it was, was just talk, and if anyone tried anything, well, there was that very nice agent in the Family and Sexual Violence unit. And maybe, just maybe, Gibbs was on her side too.
After Langston left, Gibbs called Building Maintenance, Kasie, Palmer, and Vance.
"Someone's playing games with my agent, and it's not funny," he told the director, who was scowling at the mess.
"That's a very specific insult," Vance said. "What did Langston say?"
"Someone hurt her, years ago, at a place she should have been safe, and out of respect for her, I'm not repeating what she told me until she decides to say more," Gibbs said. "That incident is something that should have been buried, and was found by somebody who had no business finding it. It has no bearing on her job here."
"Bad?"
"If he shows up in town, he won't live to see the sights," was all Gibbs said.
Vance looked at his senior agent and saw something in Gibbs' face. He nodded. "Have Kasie check the cameras. I want to know who did this, fast."
"She's already checking," Gibbs said. "Palmer says his basement apartment is ready for tenants. He's talking to Breena now, but I want Langston out of that camper, tonight, even if I have to pay the damage deposit and first month's rent myself."
"Agreed."
Then Palmer called Gibbs. "I just spoke to Breena. She likes the idea of having an agent as a tenant, especially with everything that's been going on," he said. "Jane can move in whenever she wants."
"She's with Kasie right now. Make some excuse and show her the place. Find out what she needs, but get her in there," Gibbs said. "Oh, and Palmer?"
"Yeah?"
"Make damn sure the bathroom door has a lock on it, a good one, on the inside."
There was silence, and then Palmer spoke. "I'll take care of it."
Gibbs snapped his phone shut.
"If Langston decides to sell that camper, let me know," Vance said. "NCIS could use it as a mobile operations or isolation base."
"You gonna be able to convince SecNav to put that in the budget? I know what she originally paid for that thing, and it ain't cheap."
"With the modifications Agent Langston made to it, I want that camper," Vance said, a determined look on his face.
Gibbs just smirked.
Across town, McGee, Bishop, and Torres were gearing up to go after Stevens, along with several members of a REACT team, just in case Stevens tried something. There was one thing the group had learned over the years; just because a person was just a hacker, didn't mean there couldn't be some very nasty traps, such as exploding computers or laser tripwire bombs. Hackers were bright. They could also be down-right deadly.
"How's Langston?" McGee asked, having heard about the recent scuffle.
"Sore; that was a dirty kick Mitchem did, and then the elbow to the face? Not nice," Torres said. "Tell you one thing, though; that girl can do a takedown. If it hadn't been for the elbow, or the kick, it would have been over quickly. Think we got a few things to teach her, and vice versa."
"I think you should be afraid, very afraid, of what might happen if she gets her hands on some rope," Bishop said.
"Why's that?" McGee asked.
"She knows her knots, and she even showed me how to do a handcuff knot I really want to practice on Torres with," Bishop said, grinning.
"Hey! Objection!" Torres yelped indignantly.
"Overruled!" both Bishop and McGee shot back, grinning even wider.