"Boss, I checked the Naval registry," McGee started, nervously. "There's absolutely no record of any Petty Officer named Joshua Parker."
— — —
The process of being processed, at NCIS HR, was a fairly straight-forward affair. Josh presented the two forms of ID necessary— his old license, to corroborate his Navy profile, and his new license, to prove his identity. The hair on the back of his neck rose up involuntarily as the HR agent examined the two plastic cards side-by-side. She "hmm'd" at them for long enough to trigger Josh's fight-or-flight. Then, of course, she handed them back without issue.
It was the same at NCIS Newport. And everywhere else.
Running a slightly shaky hand through his hair, Josh bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. The elevator was running painfully slow. Though he could easily have taken the stairs, Josh opted to wait— and felt slightly cowardly doing so. He was desperately prolonging a reappearance in the upstairs bullpen.
They're just people.
Except they weren't just people. They were the NCIS Major Case Response Team. The A-Team for naval-related crime; their reputation preceded them, up and down the coast. Whereas NCIS was relatively unknown, the Washington MCRT was the closest thing you could equate to positive press for the agency. They were things of urban legend.
And now, based on his bewildering interactions with both Agent Gibbs and Wanda from HR, it would seem that Josh walked amongst them.
At least, maybe? The uncertainty was killing him. He hadn't come to NCIS today to grovel for a job— merely to hold an informational meeting with the revered former Gunnery Sergeant. And the meeting itself had been anything but informational. It was brief, and stilted, and left Josh feeling like maybe Gibbs was the one holding the informational with him. The man had that trademark Marine mask-of-secrecy thing going on, and it left Josh nothing short of utterly confused.
He bounced again, and again. The elevator remained motionless.
"What'cha doing?"
Josh, an investigator and law-enforcement-agent-in-training, definitely did not jump. Not at all. The woman who now stood before him, sipping what appeared to be a concerningly large drink from 7-11, did not startle him. Neither did her goth appearance. None of it. He was perfectly calm, and not at all shaken.
"Oh boy, this is going to be fun." She sipped from her drink.
"Fun?" Josh's voice definitely didn't crack, either.
The woman stuck out her hand. "Abby. Abigail. The Ab-ster." She offered him a suspiciously knowing smile. "You're Gibbs's new baby, right? You have to be. You're the only person I've seen in the building all day, who I've never seen before."
Josh's mind stalled like a rusty stick shift. The only thing he could think to do, was check his watch. "But it's only 10."
This gave Abby-Abigail-Ab-ster pause. "Huh?"
"I'm the only person you've never seen in the building, all day today. But it's only 10." He gave her a curt smile.
She returned with a shit-eating grin. "Oof. I'm having mixed feelings… Mister…" Abby snatched the newly-minted ID card from the lanyard now hanging at his hip. "...Parker! Ooh. Like Peter Parker. Spiderman… Spiders!" She gestured at the spiderweb tattoo on her neck.
Josh couldn't help but grin, in turn. "Something like that. You overly caffeinated, or is this normal?"
The elevator dinged. "You're the investigator," Abby giggled, "you tell me."
— — —
"Gibbs?" The three subordinates of MTAC were staring at the lead agent with varying levels of extreme confusion.
In return, Gibbs looked at them sharply, over the bridge of his reading glasses. "There's a record of him. You got his file on the screen alright, didn't you?"
"That's the thing, boss." McGee looked guiltily stricken. "It's like he appeared out of thin air two years ago. The profile I pulled off Parker was a composite— someone had manually pieced together the information, internally. As in—"
"As in he's worked multiple assignments under NCIS jurisdiction, McGee. Yours is a composite profile, too." To the younger agents, Gibbs looked troublingly untroubled.
Tony couldn't help but chuckle. "Bet Kate wishes she knew she could've changed her profile all along, huh? Maybe tweak the height and weight?" She nailed him in the shin. "Ow."
"Bet DiNozzo's just glad they don't include size in these profiles."
"The computers can't count that high."
"Would you two quit it," Gibbs snarled, pushing away from the monitor.
DiNozzo sobered slightly. "It's not that we don't trust your impeccable, shiny, classic Marine-sniper instincts, boss. It's just—"
"It's just what, DiNozzo?"
"What Tony is trying to ask," Kate cut in, "is whether or not we should be concerned about this kid. If he's joining the team, we need to be able to trust him, Gibbs. And personally, I don't trust anyone with a shady personnel file."
— — —
In the elevator, Josh bounced on his feet once more; the whole machine shifted.
"Everything is gonna be fine," Abby placated. She reached over, easily smoothing the collar of his previously-ironed shirt; in her clunky, black boots, Abby easily towered over the smaller man. "Everyone will love you and you'll fit right in and things will be excellent. I like you after five whole minutes, and my opinion counts most, anyways."
At that, Josh couldn't help but smile. She was nothing if not convincing, and pleasant; though it did nothing for the anxious churning in his gut, the new agent was grateful for her verbal support. Too many unanswered questions burned at the back of Josh's mind. His defences, softened only slightly by the new, goth acquaintance, were on high-alert. Quite simply, nothing at this NCIS office was making a lick of sense.
As the doors dinged open once more, Abby winked at Josh. She then proceeded to push him out into the bullpen… But remained inside.
"Aren't you coming?" Josh quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Nah. I just came along for the ride."
He shook his head, as she disappeared behind the closing elevator doors. From behind, he could feel the gaze of the MCRT turn on him; a phantom-burn that raised his hackles.
"Parker, you coming? Or what?"
— — —
As the kid reentered the bullpen, Tony turned an investigative eye on the new recruit. There was, as Abby would say, something hinky about the whole situation. The kid didn't raise alarms like a suspect, per se— but only because he seemed to have garnered some serious goodwill from Gibbs. Tony couldn't help but feel like he was missing something major. The fact that Gibbs seemed to be clued in, but wasn't willing to divulge, only made him feel worse.
"Sir," Parker nodded at Gibbs, before casting his eyes downwards. "Human Resources has turned me back to you." His hands were shoved awkwardly into the pockets of his chinos; less classy than the suit DiNozzo had donned that morning, but at least it looked like the kid had attempted to iron them.
"And?" The look Gibbs was giving Parker, was nothing new to Tony. It was his tried-and-tested, piercing stare. Handy in interrogation, sure, but slightly out of place in the bullpen. The former Marine held his gaze for a few uncomfortable seconds, before quirking his eyebrows.
Parker glanced upwards again. "Well, my paperwork has gone through, sir. Temporary assignment— I'm cleared to assist your team for as long as you deem appropriate." He held up a shiny badge.
"Great. Grab your gear."
Instinctively, Tony reached down for his go-bag. Half-hunched, be paused.
"Boss? We got a case?"
The new probie was still standing, stationary, at the mouth of the bullpen. He didn't look frazzled, but his face betrayed the same base-level confusion that Tony felt. Gibbs hasn't told him shit, either, the SFA realized suddenly. He almost felt guilty for the relief that accompanied that realization.
Gibbs shrugged off the jacket he was wearing, hanging it loose off his desk chair. "No case. We're gonna run some drills. Meet me in the gym in 10."
— — —
Downstairs, on the first sub-level of the NCIS facility, Josh found himself holding a stack of agency-regulated sweats. "Everyone gets sweatpants, a t-shirt, a long-sleeve, a cap..." McGee was doing his very best to live up to his new role as senior-probie. It was clearly not his forte.
"Don't forget the very fashionable windbreaker, McHospitality." DiNozzo flashed Josh a grin. "We like to match at crime scenes. Makes the other acronyms jealous." Through tinted windows down the hall, Josh could see into the Agency's gym; it looked a hell of a lot nicer than the one back in Newport. For the middle of the morning, it was also blessedly empty.
Kate had already disappeared down the hallway, into what Josh believed to be the women's locker room. He swallowed, compulsively; it didn't take a genius to figure out where this situation was headed. This'll be my shortest assignment yet, then.
McGee and DiNozzo seemed nice enough. They'd briefly taken him around, pointing out important landmarks as they made their way to the basement. Their banter was friendly, easy. If Gibbs was the brains of the MCRT, Tony was clearly the heart. Though, Josh was not entirely looking forward to facing the SFA's wrath— which, if things continued on the same, accelerated path as his time Newport, would be sooner rather than later.
New sweats in hand, Josh allowed himself to be led to the doorway of the men's locker room. He plastered on an easy smile, to avoid suspicions. Please have stalls. Please, please have stalls.
Of course, no stalls. Just a row of lockers and benches. Minimalistic, and entirely unhelpful for Josh Parker.
"Actually, I think I'm gonna hit the head before we start. Down the hall, right?"
McGee, whose pants were already half-off, looked confused. "You can put your sweats down, if you want. There's no assigned lockers, just grab whatever's open."
Josh gripped the stack of new clothing tighter. "No, no, it's cool. I can change quickly while I'm there. Two-for-one deal, right." The laugh he offered sounded slightly sour; it was chased by a painful swallow.
"Dude, you can change while you pee? That's impressive," DiNozzo snorted, now topless and fumbling for his regulation t-shirt. "I'm almost tempted to come watch and learn."
"No!" Josh cried, before he could stop himself. His eyes widened. "I mean, no, it's cool. It's not that impressive. Nothing to see here." He laughed again. This time, it sounded painfully— suspiciously— fake.
The Senior Field Agent's gaze hardened upon him. McGee, too, was looking at him with concerned confusion. Josh swallowed again. And again. His back was to the door, but mentally, he couldn't stop himself from calculating the time it would take to run all the way out, up the three flights of stairs to the main entrance, past security, down the front walkway, and back the half-mile to the bus. Just in case. Everything was always just in case.
"You gonna tell us what the fuck is up with you? Or what?"
Agent DiNozzo didn't look angry. But he clearly wasn't happy. The jovial tint to his gaze had vanished.
Josh cleared his throat. "Sorry," he muttered, setting the stack of clothes on the bench. He tried again. "Sorry. Just nerves. I'm not really sure what's going on here. First day, and all." Is it hot in here? Or am I losing it? He swallowed again, pushing back against invisible bile; backed into a corner, Josh Parker felt more than a little bit feral.
Now fully changed, McGee smiled sympathetically. "No worries, man. I get it. Gibbs can be more than a little intimidating." He closed his locker. "We don't really want to keep him waiting, though."
Tony was still staring at him. "Yeah. What the Probie said."
"I'll be quick," Josh offered. "Sorry."
The two older agents began making their way to the door; Josh's relief was instantaneous. The prospect of changing in peace, almost offset the sour awkwardness of the past five minutes. With their backs to him, he quickly began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Listen, Parker—"
Tony turned around, with his hand on the door, and blanched.
It wasn't that the kid was short. It wasn't that he was apparently much slighter than the button down would suggest; toned, but oddly skinny in proportion. It wasn't even an astral-projection of the bad vibes Tony was getting in waves. It was something else, entirely— something that even Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo was unsure of how to take.
Josh turned quickly, grabbing his shirt off the bench, but it was too late.
"Parker, are those tit scars? What the fuck?"